Different
by LostOzian
Summary: COMPLETE. Did you ever wonder, if we didn't happen to be born here, if we were born somewhere else, that everything would have turned out... different? AU Musicalverse
1. Author's Note and Prologue

**A/N: I'm going to try and break the record for Longest Author's Note. Please read all of it.**

**Okay. I can't remember the last time I updated anything, I'm losing plot-bunnies left and right, and I'm falling out of the habit of checking the Wicked section. I haven't PMed anyone in ages, I barely review, and I just have to face it; I'm falling out of fanfiction. It's hard to admit it, really, and I still love Wicked, and all who love it, so much, but I realize that my profile is gathering dust and I'm starting to fade from memory. So why am I posting a story?**

**This is a story I've had for a long time, and it's part of my secret to writing great humor. When you're not feeling funny, write heart-wrenching angst (polar opposite of humor) and hide it away in a closet and then write something funny when you're over-angst'd. I can't remember how long I've had this for, but I've got sixteen solid, beta'd chapters. I'm going to do one last story, one that I can truly call my **_**best**_** work, with regular weekly updates and a coherent plot. Please don't be put off by the M-rating. I feel that I've matured as a writer, and it's not rated M for smut-sex. There are extreme sexual overtones, but there's also references to drugs, some violence, and a lot of character angst. I just can't pass it as a T. Also, most of the people who find this story will be my alert-ers, whom I love with all my heart and feel the need to properly say goodbye to.**

**The basic premise of the fic is, 'what would happen if the Canon was born somewhere else?' What if their parents had lived somewhere else and their lives had been different, with different opportunities available to them, and some opportunities don't exist at all? Would things still turn out the same if the characters came from different backgrounds? **

**This fic is intended to be alternate universe musicalverse, based on a quote from a play called 'Ascension Day' that will you will read below. I'm more comfortable with musicalverse characters and their personalities, but because of the number of characters I need and the general theme of the story, I will be borrowing excessively from bookverse. You may recognize characters, but because of the limited point of view I'm using, several characters will have pseudonyms or nicknames. I'm going to try to clear up who is who by the end, but if you ever have a question as to who someone is, or if someone is a canon character, feel free to ask me. **

**Wicked is not mine. You'll all be with me, like a handprint on my heart. -LostOzian**

* * *

"_Did you ever wonder… if we didn't happen to be born here, if we were born somewhere else, that everything would have turned out… different?"_

"…_What do you mean?"_

"…_I don't know."_

* * *

Fiyero glanced up and down the street, looking for an unsuspecting someone whose pockets might be a bit too heavy. Well, there were many pockets that were too heavy in the Wizard's glorious Emerald City, but most of those people stayed in areas where Fiyero would have been avoided like a disease. He glanced down at his pants, by now far too tight and starting to get a few holes. _These are going to be the first to be replaced,_ he promised himself. Then after that, the shirt, and after that, the shoes, and by the time he got to shoes, he'd need new pants again… He sighed, trying to rub some warmth into his arms. A month ago, being in the City had been a kind of dream to a boy living in a remote Vinkan village. He had it planned out in his mind; come to the City, get enough money for a hotel room, then use the next day to work up enough to pay for about a month in a room, then go from there. The thing Fiyero hadn't accounted for was his own limitations: hunger, for one. Poor planning and selfishness on the caravan leader's part had led to the last three days being spent battling starvation. The plan looked good on paper until that stumbling block had literally 'eaten' his reserve cash.

He finally spotted someone who at least looked like an easy mark. A skinny young woman with her head down, staring at the cobblestones as she sped along the street, though there was no telling how much money she had on her. Just right here, fake a collision…

Fiyero ran right into the woman, both of them falling to the ground. Since he had been expecting it, Fiyero was up first, but had to play that he was "so sorry, here, let me help you up…" It was only after he had secured her coin-purse and he had finished going through the innocent brush-off routine that he got a good look at her face.

He had to admit, she was beautiful, though he wasn't sure what to make of the green skin. He stared at her for a moment, hands awkwardly hovering above her shoulders, as he tried to make sense of it all. She was staring back at him calmly, knowingly.

A clock-tick later and he was up against the wall with a knife at his throat. _How had she moved so fast?_ It was just a swirling of black cloak and _boom_, the tables were turned.

"Give it back," she threatened, twisting her knife a hair so the blade pressed sharper into Fiyero's throat. He wasn't exactly sure how beautiful she was now, with her face contorted in rage and veil-less threats.

"Give what back?" he faked innocence.

"My purse, you picked my purse," she said shortly. "Give it back, then tell me who put you on this block or you'll never work again."

The gig over, Fiyero handed back the coin purse, which the green woman took without ever lifting the knife from his throat.

"Now who do you report to?" she asked him. "Who put you on this block?"

"What are you talking about?" Fiyero said in confusion. "Nobody gave me anything, I'm trying to find some change for food and a room, alright?"

"Who let you work this block without bringing you to Court?" she demanded.

"I don't know anything about a court," Fiyero insisted. "But rest assured, I'm not likely to forget _you_ soon…" The knife pressed further into his throat.

"Think you're clever, don't you?" she said. "Mark my words, you won't be able to get your sticky fingers on a single copper until you're accepted."

"Accepted?" Fiyero repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Find the person who generally works this block," she said. "Have him let you in."

"Would it kill you to speak straight?" Fiyero said, getting fed up. To his surprise, the woman's undoubtedly green knee found the space between his legs, and he fell. The next moment she was gone.

_Shit_… Fiyero thought, lying there in the street for a moment. That _hurt_! On the sunny side, he wasn't dead… She had a knife; he might as well be lying here with his blood forcing itself out of a gash in his neck.

That thought didn't the pain in his legs hurt any less. Groaning, he grabbed onto the wall and used it to drag himself up. Well, this just bites. Honestly, he hadn't expected it to be so hard in the City. He had thought there would be plenty of work for a person with his 'skills', but apparently he had to be… accepted. Just great. There was probably an acceptance fee, too. And the green girl told him to find the person who 'worked the block'. Probably another pickpocket. 

Why did everything have to be so organized in the City?! The cruel precision of the city blocks, no haggling in markets, and the cold, distant expression the Gale Force officers at the palace had watched him with. Sighing again, he leaned up against the wall and waited to find the man the green woman had talked about.

The wait was long and tedious. He just looked up and down the street, trying to see if anyone was making a lift from someone else. An hour passed. Two. Fiyero was starting to feel the air get colder as sundown approached, accompanied by the hunger of having not procured money to procure a scrap of food with.

_Not what I expected from the City,_ he thought again for the umpteenth time. His first day here and apparently there was no way for him to work until he was 'accepted'. Huh. A thieves' union. He laughed at the thought.

There, right there! That man made a lift off of a middle-aged man as they passed. It was a casual brush, ending up with the gentleman's watch in the other man's pocket, but Fiyero couldn't help but admire the technique. He usually favored full-on collision; it allowed you to reach into every pocket rather than just the one you happened to be closest to. As the man passed by, Fiyero joined him in stride, speaking before the other could say anything.

"I need to be accepted," Fiyero said. "Are you the man who works this street?" The man glanced at him, then nodded.

"Tell me a name," he said. "Not your real name, but the name you want others like you to call you." Fiyero nodded, thinking back to his childhood in a remote village in the Vinkus.

"Diamond," he said, remembering the symbol of royalty. "I'm Diamond."

"Nice. I'm Avatar," the man said, stopping at the street corner and extending his hand for Fiyero to shake. "Court begins in a few minutes. Always make sure you're available at sundown."

"What's this Court I keep hearing about?" Avatar smirked at him.

"You'll find out. Come with me."


	2. The Court of Thieves

Avatar led Fiyero to an old warehouse. The vast, echoing room was full of maybe fifty or sixty poverty-riddled men with three times as many large crates arranged around the walls in a labyrinth of alcoves and roofless rooms. There was a single skylight in the center, illuminating a small area in the center as people milled around the sides, staying out of the light. Two platforms, one with an empty battered chair, and the other laden with girls in cheap, gaudy jewelry with dresses far too short, were set up on perpendicular sides. The girls were each trying to look sexier than the others to entice the many men in the room to approach them. Fiyero furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of the ritual.

"The whores," Avatar explained. "The Witch keeps them around to entertain us."

"Who's this Witch?" Fiyero asked.

"Nobody really knows," Avatar said. "All we know is that she's the Witch and she's in charge, so watch your step." Fiyero glanced over the girls, slightly sickened that there were those who had to make a living selling the only thing they had; their bodies. _But then again, I'm a thief, so I can't really criticize them,_ Fiyero thought ruefully.

"Ah, ah, ah, Glinda's looking at you," Avatar smirked, elbowing Fiyero in the ribs. "Y'wanna get acquainted with her?" Fiyero scanned the girls, noticing a large-breasted and petite blonde that was waving her fingers at him. _Nothing better to do until I get accepted,_ Fiyero thought, allowing Avatar to lead him to the platform. _Not like I can pay her, anyway._

"Glinda, I'd like to introduce you to Diamond," Avatar said. Glinda batted baby blue eyes at him.

"Aren't you a cutie," she said with a little giggle. "I'd love it if more guys like you came along." Glinda rolled on the platform, letting her hair hang down and giving him an excellent view of her breasts. Fiyero looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets. He didn't want to give her the wrong idea that he was thinking of hiring her.

"Glinda, I don't actually have much money right now," Fiyero told her. "I just noticed you were waving at me."

"Well, I think I could arrange a discount," Glinda flipped around again, this time drawing focus to her ass. "Or a delayed payment…"

"Sorry," Fiyero said. "Just haven't eaten much today, and I'm not sure where my next meal is coming from, so I need to save a little."

"But you'll call me if you've got cash to spare, right?" Glinda said, sitting up.

"Diamond's getting accepted tonight," Avatar said. Glinda brightened.

"Congrats," she said, tracing down one of Fiyero's arms. "Just don't forget about pretty little me, okay?"

"I won't," Fiyero said, thought he wasn't sure if he meant it.

"Order!" a harsh voice called out into the crowd. "Order in the Court!" Fiyero spun around to see that a female figure had seated herself upon the old chair on the empty platform, her face hidden in the shadow of a tall, conical hat. _I guess this is the Witch,_ Fiyero thought. Avatar stepped forward, cutting off whatever she was going to say next.

"Witch," Avatar addressed the shadowy platform. "I found a new recruit. He looks to work the streets as a pickpocket. His name is Diamond," Avatar looked back to Fiyero, beckoning him forward. Fiyero stepped into the center of the room, well aware of the eyes of everyone on him, including the cluster of giggling girls.

"You," the Witch said, sitting up so her face was out of the shadows. Fiyero instantly recognized the elegantly sharp features, and the undeniably green skin.

"Hey!" Fiyero exclaimed angrily. "I tried to make a lift off you, and you kicked me between the legs!" The hall burst out laughing, the men with brazen insult and the girls with inviting condolence.

"You're lucky that's all she did to you!" a short man with curly brown hair and Munchkin blood called out. "We've got men without balls entirely because of her!" The Witch tapped one heavy, threatening foot with slight amusement, and Fiyero realized what must have happened.

"Witch," Fiyero repeated, disliking the feel on his tongue. For the strangest reason, Fiyero didn't think it suited her. "Why 'Witch'? Why not Ozma of Thieves or something royal-sounding, if you're really the one in charge?" The hall steadily got quieter as Fiyero talked until it was silent, and the Witch's response rang through the hall like a funeral bell.

"Because nobody fears an Ozma," the Witch said. "The more you fear me, the more likely you are to survive. On that note, why 'Diamond'?" the Witch turned the tables. "Who fears a diamond? Diamonds are clear, easy to see through, put in places where they are easily stolen. I have never met a diamond that didn't come quietly when I put it in my pocket." Fiyero looked away from the Witch, searching for Avatar to back him up, but realized he was alone.

_That's cheap! _Fiyero thought. _Bring the new guy up here just so he could be insulted!_

"Do you expect to sparkle your way into making a living here?" the Witch continued. "Or are you somehow referring to some other meaning of diamond? Perhaps you are referring to the state of being hard?" This earned more laughter from those watching Fiyero as they contemplated his name having a sexual origin. _Be that way!_ Fiyero thought angrily, while outwardly shaking his head. He sent a smile at the prostitutes, then locked eyes with the Witch.

"Well, there is a girl here doing a pretty good job at making me more diamond-like…" Fiyero said suggestively, sending the hall into uproar. Everyone else thought he was talking about one of the whores, but the Witch understood the look in his eye. Her expression became etched in a look of disapproval and contempt.

"If you're ready to think with your head as opposed to your head, read this aloud," the Witch threw a small scroll at Fiyero. He caught it, unfurling the worn paper to reveal a Unionist scroll with a quaint village skyline painted at the top.

"I pray to the Unnamed God that justice will walk abroad in Oz," Fiyero's reading was slow, but if they had to test people for literacy, he probably did better than most recruits. He rolled the scroll up again and tossed it back.

"Congratulations, you have a brain," the Witch said. "You had me half-convinced the opposite."

"Two heads are better than one," Fiyero said causally.

"Shut up," the Witch ordered, reaching into her large, secretive cape and withdrawing a copper coin. "Which girl wants to help test _Master_ Diamond?"

Instantly Glinda hopped down from the platform of women, approaching the Witch and taking the coin with a smile.

"Now, Glinda, remember the rules," the green woman said.

"What makes you think I'd skew it this time?" Glinda asked.

"You offered him a discount," the Witch said, before turning to Fiyero. "Your task is to steal all the jewelry off of Miss Glinda without her realizing it."

"Won't she just say she felt something even if she didn't?" Fiyero said.

"What do you take us for?" the Munchkinlander from before spoke up again, sounding violently defensive. "You're under the watch of over fifty thieves. We'll see if she cries 'wolf'."

"Enough, Ax," the Witch said calmly. "Let him try." Fiyero looked over Glinda, skillfully identifying everywhere she was wearing jewelry. A pair of drop earrings, a gold chain around her neck, gold and silver bangles on both wrists, and an anklet. He didn't doubt his ability to get it all, but he was sick of playing by the rules of these thieves' game. He wasn't allowed to work the streets until he was brought to this ridiculous _club_, bore insults, and was now asked to perform like a show monkey. _Well, fuck this._

"What are _you_ staring at?" Glinda said, apparently role-playing an unsuspecting mark.

"Well, you," Fiyero said, taking her hand and placing his on the small of her back, beginning to improvise a waltz around the room. "Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Nalyd. My father makes buttons for a living. He works with three different tailors, receiving designs and making buttons for them and sending them back."

Fiyero continued to dance with Glinda, making up outlandish yet plausible details about a fake life and interests. Glinda listened, half-guessing if he was making a mistake and adding in real details, like his name or favorite pastimes, and decided to remember what he had said in an attempt to get to know him better. It wasn't until she felt his fingers fumbling with her necklace clasp that she remembered that she was supposed to be testing him.

"Thief!" she called out. "I felt him on the necklace!" Fiyero stepped back, hands raised in surrender as everyone checked over how much jewelry Glinda was still wearing.

"You didn't take anything?" Glinda asked in disappointment. He wasn't going to be let in, she probably would never see him again…

"You sure?" Fiyero said, taking some fabric out of his back pocket. As he unfolded it, Glinda realized that it was her bra. She screamed and snatched at it, bolting to her 'fellows' and trying to get out of sight. The others arranged themselves in a screen, trying to put off the men attempting to see Glinda as she put her bra back on. "No such thing as a free show… You can see it if you pay… She could come visit you later, but now's a bad time…"

"You may think you're clever, Diamond, but you've done nothing but prove to me you're a pervert," the Witch scolded. Fiyero rolled his eyes.

"Give me a break!" he cried. "If I can lift her bra, I could have lifted anything else off of her, no sweat!"

"Actually, he's looking good for a Puss in Boots act," the Munchkinlander, Ax, said. "Clean him up a little, and we could just outfit him with the Count's old suit…"

"Nobody is outfitting anyone," the Witch said. "Puss can't work every day, and has to keep switching zones to avoid detection."

"But when Puss does pay out, he pays big," Ax debated. "And it's not like the Count is using his suit much anymore."

"Why, what happened to the Count?" Fiyero couldn't help asking.

"He died of drug overdose." The Witch said flatly.

And that was that, apparently. The Witch turned to the hall as a whole. "Who has an empty section for a pickpocket?"

Silence. About seven or eight of the men, Fiyero could only guess they were the ones in charge of the blocks, exchanged glances.

"Witch, I would be in support of a Puss in Boots act," one of them said. Others muttered approval. The Witch seemed to boarder on livid.

"Upper-class women would have lingerie with a high resale value," Ax said, almost jokingly. The Witch massaged her forehead in exasperation.

"Fine. Ax, you'll be responsible for teaching him the rules and getting the Puss act up and running. Now, how many dorms have spaces?" Three hands went up, making the Witch tsk in annoyance. "I guess first order of business is reorganization of lodging." Fiyero continued to stand there until Ax pulled him aside. The new thief got a better look at the man who had stuck up for him; Fiyero was clearly taller than him by about a foot, but he had heard Munchkinlanders were generally shorter. He had dark brown eyes and a childish face, but his voice was anything but innocent.

"Your turn's up," he said. "The name's Ax, and it's nice to meet you, Diamond. Rule number one, the way we stay safe is if we regulate the crime. Report any and all unregistered criminals, pickpockets, and the like. Prevent murderers. Avoid murdering. Stop rape. Don't steal from other thieves." Fiyero blinked at the cut-and-dried manner with which Ax presented these rules.

"All loot is to be delivered here," Ax continued. "It's dumped in communal sacks for the pawn-runners, or people like me, who take it to be fenced. We're also the ones who keep track of the streets and dorms. The cold cash from each day is all put in a mutual pot with the profit from yesterday's pawn-runners. After everything's sorted, we start dividing up money. Ten golds per day go to the rent and maintenance on the dorms; police can't bust legitimately rented rooms. Then all the thieves get paid two golds, the pawn-runners get three, and the Witch takes five. If there's extra, it goes into reserve so that everyone can still get paid on a bad day. If there's more than thirty golds headed to reserve, then we all get paid again in equal parts, with odd parts going to reserve. The Witch never takes extra pay."

"Why is the Witch in charge, anyway?" Fiyero couldn't help but ask. The Witch had called down the residents of the dorms with vacancies, taken into account who was missing, and was moving people around.

"She's run this whole operation organized with the precision of a Tik Tok machine for nearly five years," Ax said. "We bring in gold, follow her rules, and keep quiet. She gives us a secure place to sleep, dependable daily pay, and keeps the crime rates low enough that the Wizard won't take notice of us."

"Diamond, you are to report to the dorm on South Street," the Witch called out. "The door will be marked with a red handle." Fiyero waved at her friendlily, mind abuzz by how young she must have been when she first started to govern the thieves.

"Gotcha," he said, causing the Witch to scoff at him.

"That kind of attitude is going to get you killed," Ax said.

"By who?" Fiyero asked. "The Witch? Would she kill one of her own men?"

"Yes, she would," Ax said gravely. "We're no better than a herd of stupid animals. Stragglers are cut down so the herd can move on. If someone can't carry their weight, they're cut down."

"You sound like you've seen it before," Fiyero said.

"It's because I have. We lose people a lot. Some deaths are accidental. Some aren't."

Ax was called up to collect the day's 'earnings', a procedure that Fiyero was fascinated by. The Witch called out a group of three 'sectors', or one 'zone'. Zone one, two, three, etcetera, all turned out, and about ten men–sometimes more, sometimes less–would come up and sort out everything they had stolen that day into bags held by Ax and other pawn-runners. One had straight gold in it, and miscellaneous items were deposited in the other bags. Watches, shiny trinkets, decorative knives, rings, and (emptied) coin-purses were all thrown pell-mell in the bag. The bags were tied off and put at the Witch's feet, as yesterday's bags were brought forward and added to the coins of that day. The pawn-runners counted out ten gold coins, then started calling up zones again to give them their two golds. The pawn-runners and the Witch took their shares, thirty for reserve was counted out, and then the change was counted out and the zones were called again to receive their bonuses. At the end of this process, the thieves all had about half a gold coin's worth more in assorted change. Since Fiyero hadn't worked, he wasn't paid, and it felt strange; like being left out of a family.

Ax returned soon, tying the items he was 'charged' with to a loop on his belt.

"That's what happens every day," Ax said. "The Witch should call Court adjourned soon, and the 'runners and I go off and come back, fool around with the gals for a little, and then go home. We'll meet here around six tomorrow. Here," Ax said, digging a silver coin out of his pocket. "Go enjoy what this buys you."

"This buys me food," Fiyero said, pocketing the coin.

"The longer you can go without needing to eat, the better," Ax said. "Most of us here can do a week before it gets to us. The Witch's got all these habits of saving and planning for the future; go hungry today so you can eat tomorrow. Morals and shit shoved up our asses."

"What makes you think you have morals if you keep prostitutes in business?" Fiyero said curtly. Ax laughed at him.

"Those girls live like queens compared to how others make a living," Ax said. "Glinda and the Witch go back a few years, and the Witch gives Glinda and the gals a place in Court. They actually manage to own two rooms themselves; one for living and one for business. Because the Witch's thieves have consistent pay, they've got a steady stream of regulars, keeping their lifestyle secure. The Witch actually goes after men who abuse the whores. It's not pretty."

"So they could be off worse?" Again, Ax laughed at Fiyero.

"Inductees are so naïve," he said. "We may have morals, but we're not naïve. You can _always_ be off worse."


	3. The South Street Dorm

Fiyero ignored Ax's advice, and spent the silver on a loaf of bread, thinking that if he had to pass for some upper-class bastard tomorrow, he shouldn't have his stomach grumble in the middle of trying to seduce marks. Chewing his dinner, Fiyero found the dorm that the Witch had instructed him to go to, the handle marked with a heavily chipped coat of red paint. _At least it's convenient that I get a roof in all this,_ Fiyero thought as he tried the handle.

Locked.

_The fuck!?_ Fiyero banged on the door a few times, shouting out, "Hey! Let me in!" After a few seconds, he kicked the door with a loud _thud_ that gauged a long scuff in his boot. _Shit!_

"Can you wait two seconds?!" a voice from inside cried. "You'll be glad if you do!" Fiyero stopped. Well, at least there was someone to let him in. A moment later, a young man with disheveled black hair, pants hastily and half-done up, and no shirt, opened the door. "Diamond?"

"Uh…yeah," Fiyero said, still unaccustomed to people using his pseudonym as his name.

"We weren't expecting you so soon," the man stepped aside, letting Fiyero into his new home.

The room seemed to be a medium size, maybe twelve feet by fifteen feet. There were four rickety-looking bunk beds arranged in the spare corners, six of them with bedrolls–a thin mattress, a thinner blanket, and a pillow–arranged neatly at the top. Fiyero guessed that there was about two feet of space between the ceiling and the top bunk. _I call bottom…_ he thought.

"We actually weren't expecting anyone to show up so soon," the man who had opened the door. "When the Witch rearranged lodgings, and there were fewer people who would be coming home, we decided to… go for it…" Fiyero suddenly realized that one of the lower bunks had been made up with two bedrolls for extra mattress padding, and the spare sheets were covering another man with messy brown hair about the same age as the first, but considerably less dressed.

"Uh… sorry about that," Fiyero said, realizing how close he had come to walking in on two of his new roommates having gay sex. "I could come back later…"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," the man on the bedroll said pointedly, looking up at Fiyero with the expression of a child who had just had his fun spoiled by a scolding parent.

"Hush, love," the black haired one said quietly, and the man on the bedroll did as he was told. "I guess this isn't the best first impression… I'm Mind, that's Matter." Mind indicated the man on the bedroll.

"Mind… _over _Matter?" Fiyero said, guessing.

"Because _he_ likes it on top," Matter said, getting a mischievous smile.

"Our joke," Mind explained. "I think you were the only one who ever stood up to the Witch with such impudence. And the bra-lift was hilarious." Fiyero smiled.

"Well, the Witch can't be all snarls and threats twenty four-seven," Fiyero said. "She has to laugh sometimes."

"I don't think she was laughing when you defended your name," Matter said, settling deeper into the bedroll. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm losing _my_ diamond-like state here." Fiyero's stomach dropped.

"Oh, sorry, um…" Mind threw a stammering Fiyero a small, rusty key.

"Knock loudly, count to ten, then enter," he instructed, and Fiyero hurriedly left. Shutting the door behind him, he crossed the street and stood staring at the door, breathing heavily. That… was strange. The Witch had good intentions trying to room men together, but she obviously couldn't account for homosexuals. Fiyero wondered if the Witch knew that two of her 

men were romantically involved, and if she had roomed Fiyero with them to punish him. Well, Mind was at least nice enough, so they would probably get along well when Matter was less concerned about his erection. Even if it was sheer coincidence Fiyero was kicked out of his home shortly after arriving, where would the Witch have been expected to put a pair of gays? With girls? That wouldn't do at all.

Fiyero then realized this also left him with nothing _to _do.

He ran over his options. He could try to 'borrow' some spare change from a generous stranger and wake up with a breakfast, but now that he knew the rules he was hesitant to break them. He could just walk around, but he didn't know if that would make him seem suspicious. Would the Witch have set someone to tail him? Did she really have that much power over the thieves? He could always find out where the whores were, and take Glinda up on her offer for delayed payment, but he honestly didn't feel in the mood. He felt battered, beaten, worn down by all the regulations he hadn't known existed, and he just wanted to crash at his new home…

Which was out of the question, because Mind was over Matter the way they _both_ liked it.

_Now what?_

Fiyero found himself wandering in aimless circles, wearing out the pavement and his shoes for no good reason. It was much later, nearing midnight, when he dared return to the apartment, remembering that Mind asked him to knock, count to ten, and then open the door.

Mind and Matter were still sharing bed space, but they were both clothed, which was a relief. One of the other bottom-bunk bedrolls was unfurled, holding a middle-aged man with deep lines on his face.

"Diamond?" he checked. Fiyero nodded. "The name's Switch, and I'll be your Ama here, all right?" Fiyero snorted at the reference to the chaperones wealthy girls usually kept around.

"Switch, huh?" Fiyero said, claiming another bottom bunk and beginning to work at the improvised straps of the bedroll- a stained blue ribbon and a cracked belt.

"I used to have a bag-trading act," Switch said. "It worked well for a while. Now, I'm starting to get old… I made it as a pawn-runner, so that's kinda eased the load."

"Ax is a pawn-runner, too," Fiyero mused aloud. "How do you get to be a pawn-runner?"

"The Witch has to like you," Switch said. "Or at least trust you. If she trusts you, then she lets you handle the hard goods. I was one of her first supporters when she was up and coming, and she was just a little girl with sticky fingers, a knack for politics, and a figure too bony for what others her age did."

"Then what about Ax? He's not that old," Fiyero noticed.

"Ax is special," Switch said. "We have no clue what's up with him, but we think he knows where the Witch lives. Lurline knows she doesn't room with the likes of us."

"So she takes five golds to afford her own room?" Fiyero said.

"The Witch lives _like _the rest of us," Matter spoke up. "You've seen her; her only decoration is that black witchy hat. No jewels, no frills, no fluff…" Fiyero remembered the feel of her coin-purse in his ill-fated attempt to lift it.

"Her coin-purse was plain," he said. "And light."

"So she's not hoarding it up like a bureaucrat," Mind said, stroking Matter's hair. "Can she really spend five golds a day?"

"Who knows?" Matter said. "Maybe the green skin is paint. I've never been that close."

"It ain't paint," Switch said. "I've been near her. There's no streaks, and no crinkles like there is when the whores wear makeup. She's born that way."

"How old is she?" Fiyero asked, finally making his bed and lying down on it.

"Dunno," Switch said. "Looks like she's eighteen, acts like she's eighty. I think only she knows her age." Fiyero stared at the weave of his blanket, almost counting threads. There weren't many.

"He's doing the heavy math," Matter said, leaving his place by Mind's side and standing in the center, assuming a dramatically mocking pose and voice. "A young maiden no older than him has successfully spearheaded the crime in the City to the point where she could unleash a dreadful plague of scoundrels upon the City if the Wizard ever declared green unfashionable!" Mind and Switch chuckled at Matter's antics, but Fiyero wasn't that amused.

"No, I had realized _that_ hours ago," Fiyero said. "But if she's been so dedicated to setting up her rules and laws, I don't think she's ever had the chance to be… a girl."

This sent everyone but Fiyero into bouts of hysterical laughter.

"I think it's your Lurline-given gift to make people laugh, Diamond," Mind finally gasped, tears trickling from his eyes. Fiyero looked down glumly.

"I've noticed," he said.

"The Witch was right that you think with your head," Matter added after his laughter died down. "I think you're the first to truly realize that the Witch, with all of her crimes, is_ pure_."

"It just sounds so unbelievable that she's never done something so… human," Fiyero said.

"She's human until you remember she's green," Switch said. "And that should be enough of a warning sign for you. Glowy green bugs are the poisonous ones."

"But she _is_ human," Fiyero said. "She has to be. And people have emotions, we laugh, cry, we feel pain…" Switch, Mind, and Matter all said "Awww" at the same time.

"Fucked-up poet," Switch said affectionately. "Honestly, if you can seduce the Witch, I'd give you a platinum."

"You've never owned enough golds to buy you a platinum," Mind pointed out.

"Then I'll find someone who does have a platinum and steal it for him," Switch said. "Point is, that gal's got too many brains to let some schmuck mess with her heart. You'd need more nerve than this Court has ever seen to even try it." Fiyero rolled over, staring at the slats of the bed above him.

"But it can be done… in theory," Fiyero said. "She's human, and humans have feelings."

"You keep dreaming pretty dreams, Diamond," Switch said. "G'night."

"Wait… night?" Fiyero said. "Wouldn't it be easy to find marks at night? The nightlife and all."

"Lots of thieves do go out at night," Mind said. "But Switch is a pawn-runner, Matter and I target daytime tourists, and you're a Puss in Boots. We're sunlight acts. Though a lot of the common pickpockets work nights to help supplement how much they bring in."

"Also explains why Court is held at sundown," Matter added, lying down and bringing Mind up on top of him so his partner's dark hair fanned out on his chest. Fiyero only then realized that Matter was wearing a worn black leather coat, even inside and apparently to bed. _Odd… _"The daytime civilians are gone, but the nightlife hasn't started yet. It's a dead hour."

"Now, if the baby doesn't have any more questions, sleep is our best bet," Switch said. Fiyero was quickly gaining an impression of him; fatherly, yet occasionally grouchy. Probably not a morning person.

If he thought about everything he had learned, it was bound to keep him up, so Fiyero tried his best to clear his mind before going to sleep. After some tossing and turning on an unfamiliar bed, he finally managed to drop into a dream-filled sleep.


	4. Puss In Boots

_The City was no longer emerald. Everything was gray; the skies, the walls, the people all staring ahead with vacant eyes, walking the slow stroll of a person sleep-walking. He could see a flash of green in the distance, dancing and flickering… someone in this City of no color had green skin…_

_"Wait!" Fiyero shouted after her, beginning the chase. "What's your name?"_

_The people all began talking at once._

_"My name is Ayabad…"_

_"My name is Famoha…"_

_"My name is Iwapa…"_

_"No!" Fiyero screamed. "I want to know _your_ name!"_

_"Elou…"_

_"Pofataran…"_

_"Reprer…"_

_"NO!"_

A pillow collided with Fiyero's face.

"Stop twitching, and get up! Ax wouldn't have asked a favor from the Witch if he didn't want you to be a Puss in Boots so bad, so get your ass out of bed!"

It was Switch. Fiyero had been right in guessing that the aging thief wasn't a morning person. The Vinkan blinked, his dream scattering like mist in the morning breeze, and he stretched. The movement only served to clunk Fiyero's ankles and wrists against the frame of the bed, sending an unpleasant stinging up his legs and arms.

"Ouchie," Matter said. "Though that looks like an efficient way to wake up…" Fiyero bit back the urge to nurse his early-morning injury and swung his legs off his bed, pulling on his boots and shirt.

"What are you doing until Court?" Fiyero asked.

"_You_ go and find out if the Count's old suit fits you, and mind your own business," Switch snapped. Mind and Matter send Fiyero sympathetic looks. Apparently this was routine behavior for their 'Ama' early in the morning.

"C'mon, Switch, Diamond's brand new," Mind said. "He doesn't know the system." Switch let out a heavy breath of defeat.

"The pawn-runners usually watch the streets for undocumented crime," Switch said tiredly. "And if we're young enough, we take the bastards down, or offer to let them in if they're talented. Happy?"

"Yeah," Fiyero said. "Is that why you support the Witch? So you'll have a set job that doesn't break your back?" Switch threw his pillow at Fiyero; apparently the aging man had stolen one of Mind and Matter's pillows to wake Fiyero.

"I support the Witch because I thought life might get a little better for us all, and it has," Switch held out his hand for Fiyero to give back the pillow, snatching it and packing it up in the bedroll. Matter raised his eyebrows, picking up a gap-toothed comb and running it through his weightless brown hair.

"Uh… could I…" Fiyero pointed to the comb, the awkward question to borrow it dying in his mouth.

"Ax should have secured a proper hairbrush for you," Matter said airily, continuing to comb his hair into place. "Just live with the bed head for a few minutes." Fiyero nodded, before realizing that none of his roommates had spare objects lying around, and yet here was a comb.

"Wait, where did you get the comb? I didn't see one earlier." Matter gave the comb to Mind.

"These rooms are ideal for thieves," Matter said. "Lots of loose compartments and crannies to be found. The less that is out in the open, the better, but if you find a hiding spot that already has something in it, remember; you don't steal from thieves." Fiyero nodded again, taking half a second to notice that Matter was still wearing the black leather coat he had gone to sleep in, before lacing up his boot and turning his attention to folding up the bedroll. It took him two tries to fold it up the way it had looked when he found it, but when he was finally satisfied, he pocketed his key and left the room.

The streets were mostly empty, the City starting to wake up and still lost in the haze of dawn. He started toward the Court warehouse, but not long after noticed that it was six-thirty, and that he was going to be late. He began to run, his footsteps echoing in the sleepy City, closing the distance between him and the warehouse quickly. He only spent a moment leaning against the side to catch his breath, before pulling open the door and entering.

The warehouse seemed eerily empty, just like the City outside. Everything had been left just as it had been, the platforms and throne still in their places, but with the absence of people, it seemed ghostly and surreal. Fiyero looked around for some sign of Ax.

"Ax?!" Fiyero called out.

"Fucking time, Diamond!" Ax responded. "Left of the throne and back, I'm in the corner!" Fiyero followed instructions, reaching Ax in a small alcove made out of the crates. One of the crates was open, revealing a suit of clothes finer than Fiyero would have hoped to ever truly own. The suit consisted of a set of dark brown boots, light tan pants, a white button-up shirt and a red vest. There were other miscellaneous items in the crate; spare change of silvers and coppers, a small, finely crafted gold chain, a bottle of amber cologne, with several small vials of the same color, a fingernail brush, and a hair brush. In a corner, Fiyero could see a bucket filled with water and a tattered yellow-brown washcloth sitting on top.

"Take a bath with the washcloth," Ax instructed. "If there's any trace of commoner dirt, it's a real turn-off. Scrub even where you'd have clothes on- there might be a stink."

"What about the cologne?" Fiyero said.

"Cologne has a different use," he said. "Are you ashamed or something?"

"What is there to be ashamed of?" Fiyero said, peeling off his shirt. Ax mostly busied himself airing out the Count's suit, spraying it with something that smelled vaguely like fresh cotton from a bottle in his pocket. Again, Fiyero wondered why he didn't just use the cologne in the box, but he kept quiet, dutifully scrubbing off every speck of dirt that may be on him and taking the nailbrush to remove anything under his fingers. Ax described the café he had found, and that he noticed how it seemed to (successfully) target the young, and how the few adults there would usually be Amas with eyes only for their charges.

"What's the man-jewelry for?" Fiyero said, wanting to shut Ax up about how to go about his business for a moment. Fiyero had a style and he was sticking to it.

"You're a lucky bastard that the Count came through first," Ax said, picking up the chain and showing it to Fiyero. "He got all the kinks ironed out. The Witch enchanted this so that whoever is wearing it can't smell anything. It's just _pop_, no smells."

"The Witch has powers?" Fiyero asked, nearly dropping the washcloth.

"Y'think she'd call herself a Witch if she didn't?" Ax said. "It's reason number seven that she's in charge; don't follow rules, she'll turn you into a dog… or a chair…" Fiyero thought of the Witch's throne and winced.

"Well, you're probably thinking 'why do I need my nose blocked up?' and the answer is because of the cologne," Ax said, putting down the chain and picking up one of the vials. "It was actually my own idea to add the cologne. This stuff has a dose of a common nar-co-tic called Mind Haze. Anyone who smells it has their noggin working a few speeds below normal, and with low doses, they don't realize it unless they're sniffing for it. It makes people less likely to notice they're being stolen from. Needless to say, if you go around sniffing this shit while working," Ax wiggled the vial. "We're in deep trouble."

"Did the Count overdose on… Mind Haze?" Fiyero asked. He had seen a similar drug used by the eldest men out in the Vinkus; it kept them sleepy and weak, but for all the world they were happy, compliant, and most of all, quiet.

"No. The Count felt himself getting addicted to Mind Haze, but knew that the Court would suffer if he used. As a solution to the addiction, he found something more powerful. It's street name is Whiz. It's kind of the opposite of Mind Haze. It sends you into overdrive. That's what killed him."

"I thought the Witch was opposed to using drugs," Fiyero said. Ax turned away.

"The Witch needs to learn when it's handy to slip someone a pill and be done with the whole deal," the pawn-runner said, looking like he knew what he was talking about. "The point is, the cologne gets marks tipsy, and you can get more per person without them noticing. It's especially useful in groups. Most of them usually walk away wondering where they had 'accidentally dropped' whatever you took, if they even notice at all." Fiyero nodded, using his old shirt to dry off.

"Wash your hair," Ax advised.

"I did wash it."

"I can't tell. Do it again."

"There's no soap-"

"Then do your best!" Fiyero gave up arguing, dipping the washcloth in the water again and rubbed it deep into his scalp. Ax looked him over, chewing his tongue in thought.

"You'll do," he said, giving Fiyero the suit. "Careful putting it on. Don't wrinkle it too much." Fiyero dried his hair on his shirt, and began pulling on the pants.

"These are tight as my old ones," Fiyero noticed.

"It's called 'sexy'," Ax said. "The Count was a bit skinnier than you, too. Especially near the end of it all. We had to tailor it a few times so it didn't look baggy." Fiyero looked down, focusing on putting on the shirt and vest.

"Why red?" he said, buttoning up the vest. "I thought green was the fashion."

"There're a lot of reasons," Ax said. "The red was cheap because it's technically out of style. The Witch would take offense to green. Red attracts people because it stands out. That's part of why the cologne was necessary. The drug balances out the fact you're so easily spotted."

"Glad this is all thought out," Fiyero said. Ax handed him the chain.

"Put this on, it's time to make you smell nice," Ax said, picking up the bottle of cologne. "It'll last for about four hours. After that, reapply with this, but not before then or else marks will get full, addictive doses." Fiyero pocketed a vial as he put on the chain.

Fiyero had to say that having the sense of smell suddenly removed was a little disconcerting. The strong smell of cotton off of his new clothes disappeared, along with the musty smell of the warehouse and the unique human-smell Ax had. The cap was off the laced cologne, and Fiyero couldn't smell a thing.

"Ugh, I wish I the chain on," Ax said, grabbing one of Fiyero's wrists and dabbing it with the bottle. "Rub your wrists together. And get out of here. I'm not the one you want to drug."

Fiyero found the café quickly, settling down at a table and waving away a waiter, making up some excuse that he wasn't ready to order anything yet. He looked around for marks, then decided it was best to let people approach him. He did seem out of place, a splash of red in a sea of green, a droplet of blood on a leaf. He pulled out a silver and started rolling in across his knuckles, an easy parlor trick he had learned when a stranger walked through town. He had been seven.

Fiyero looked up when a girl with dirty blonde hair approached his table tenatively. Though he didn't actually notice the dirty blonde first; something about her manner and behavior made him look straight at what she decorated herself with; a white-gold bracelet, pearl drop earrings, and a string of pearls as a necklace.

"May I help you?" Fiyero said, displaying convincing, yet insincere, interest in her.

"I couldn't help but notice how skilled you are with that silver," she said.

"Would you like to learn?" Fiyero offered, giving her the silver piece and helping her arrange her fingers. He knew right off the bat it was hopeless, but it put his hands closer to her, and Fiyero was curious if Ax's crocked concoction worked. Sure enough, as the girl was supposed to steadily be getting better, she seemed to be coming to a standstill. Her fingers didn't move fast enough, and while she still managed to maintain conversation she didn't notice when Fiyero replaced the silver with a copper. _Nice going, Ax._

"It's okay," Fiyero told her after a few minutes. "It took me a while to learn. Are you here alone?" He added extra concern into his question.

"Oh, no… my friends are over there," the girl gestured over her shoulder. A chocolate brunette and a nearly albino white-blonde were sitting a few tables away, and they waved as Fiyero looked up at them. He motioned them over, and after a minute of bustling skirts they were seated next to their friend.

The albino, who was wearing a rather unflattering set of emeralds, started introducing herself and her posse, which Fiyero pretended to be interested in, when the question came, "Who might you be?" Fiyero merely smiled the most charming grin he could muster.

"I've always found that the ladies like me better when _they_ tell me who I 'might be'." The girls exchanged glances, barely believing that they had essentially found a mold-a-man.

"Okay, your name is Rontreb…" the chocolate started out, and her friends took up tacking on more names.

"Syrea…"

"Malliwis…"

The three of them all spoke at once, 'junior', 'the second', and 'the third'.

"There's actually an interesting story at how I can be all those at once," Fiyero said, improvising. "You see, My father was the second Rontreb in the family, but my mother's father was named Rontreb the first, so I'm Rontreb the third on my father's side and Rontreb the second, or junior, on my mother's." The girls giggled as they realized exactly how willing Fiyero was to comply with their fantasies.

"You're a professional swimmer," the dirty blonde one ventured.

"You should try swimming in Skeezer Lake in the Gillikin," Fiyero said. "Tad colder than most other lakes, but I swear, the water is like air there. You just glide…"

And so, in the span of half an hour, Fiyero gained remarkable swimming abilities, an interest in poetry, near-feminine sensitivity, an adorable black terrier, parents in real estate (who were grooming him to inherit a large set of apartments in the upper-scale part of town), and two bracelets, a set of earrings, and the pearl necklace. It was obvious how much of an affect the cologne had; he could see the contentment on the young ladies' faces as he spoke; they were happy just to sit there, listening to him.

"Oh, is that the time?!" Fiyero looked up at the clock kept by the front of the shop. "I have to meet Father downtown, I am so sorry I have to go... Will I see you all again?"

"Please do," Albino-blonde said dreamily._ Not._ Fiyero just smiled again, a time-honored trick, and left the café as quickly as possible.

Lather.

Rinse.

Repeat.


	5. A String of Pearls

It was the happiest Fiyero had felt in a long time. He had successfully pulled off his act three times, each time able to take more than he would have dreamed while still leaving enough to deter most suspicion. He was allowed to do what he did and had relative protection from the law, and was about to bring home what he was sure was the most valuable haul his new 'family' had seen in a long time. When Puss pays, he pays big. Quickly, he ran over inventory of what he had managed to get: three pairs of earrings, four bracelets, and two necklaces.

Not counting the pearls, of course. He was keeping the pearls.

He had used water from a fountain in the center of the City to wash off the last remainders of the drugged cologne, thinking his fellows wouldn't appreciate standing near him if he smelled like… well, Fiyero wasn't sure what he smelled like with the cologne on. The vial was still half-full from when he had re-applied; he decided it would serve for tomorrow as well.

The sun was just beginning to slip behind the lower buildings when Fiyero returned to the Court warehouse. Switch was there, along with Ax and a few other pawn-runners. The whores weren't there yet, and there was no sign of the Witch.

"Change back," Ax said. "Never wear the suit longer than you have to. Glad you got the stink off…" Fiyero nodded, heading back toward his 'changing room'. "And fold it nicely!" Fiyero grumbled to himself, pulling off the chain and nearly stumbling at the return of one of his sense of smell. It was overpowering, to have gone without smell and then suddenly gain it again. Shaking his head for clarity, Fiyero unbuttoned the vest and folded it, placing it back in the box with all of his other props. The pocket change, the chain, the vial, the boots… Putting on his other clothes again was like changing back into himself. He wasn't some rich heir, but he was himself. He was Fiyero. In a fit of inspiration, Fiyero laced the pearl necklace around his ankle, hiding it with his boot. It was a tad uncomfortable, but he couldn't tell there was anything hidden there, so he went with it.

"Yo, Diamond!" Ax called, appearing at the alcove. "Good, you're not naked. Thing is, you're going to have to go through prep yourself the next time you go out. I have something I can't get out of tonight, so you'll have to fly solo." Fiyero looked up.

"What, is there a waiting list for this girl?" Fiyero assumed it was one of the whores.

"It's not that," Ax said. "It's complicated. But you should know the drill by now." With that, the pawn-runner disappeared. A minute or so later, Fiyero was done re-packing, and joined the main hall once again. The warehouse was more crowded now, and the whores' platform was occupied. He looked for Mind and Matter, finally finding them making out in a corner. _Shit. _He'd be a complete asshole to interrupt them.

Fortunately, the strident cries of "Order!" did the job for him. The Witch was sitting on her throne, scanning the crowd for unfamiliar faces. "Zone one, turn out!" Fiyero sat back and watched the process for the second time, getting a better feel of who was in which zone. Mind and Matter were in zone three, he noticed. That was probably the zone that Switch was in charge of; the zone he would have been in.

"Zone seven," the Witch called out after zone six had gone. "Puss in Boots. What do you have for us?" Fiyero stepped toward the pawn-runners, having no idea why he suddenly felt so nervous. He emptied his pocket, dropping in the earrings one at a time and taking his time to untangle necklace chains and put them in individually. An awed silence had fell over the hall as Fiyero finished.

"Are you quite done?" the Witch said, either unimpressed or faking. "Ax, get those separate. Have them appraised at a jeweler with some sob story about selling heirlooms. And Diamond, you are banned from working tomorrow."

"What?" Fiyero said indignantly. "Why are you banning me?!"

"If you work every day with payouts like this, you will be noticed and caught," the Witch said. "Puss in Boots can't work every day."

"Well, can I work the streets like everyone else?" Fiyero asked. "Just… as something to do?"

"_No_," the Witch repeated more forcefully. "Banned. You can read; find a library or something. Or hire a girl to entertain you." Fiyero controlled a display of anger, merely walking away.

"S'kay, Diamond," Matter said consolingly. "It was the same way with the Count. He only worked every other day."

"Though _banned_," Fiyero said in disbelief. "That's kind of strong, isn't it?"

"You're kind of developing a reputation of being a loose cannon," Mind said. "The Witch usually comes down harder on people she might not have total control over."

"Great," Fiyero groaned sarcastically. The Witch called up the zones again to be paid; Fiyero received his two golds in an assortment of silvers, as he was at the end of the list and all the golds had gone to the earlier zones. It was decided the leftovers weren't enough to pay everyone again, and the spare change went into reserve.

Fiyero had to say, it was nice to have a stack of silvers legitimately in his hands. This, this could actually get him somewhere. Pulled from his musings, he noticed the Witch leave her throne, heading back into the shadows behind her platform. Fiyero started off after her, thinking of the pearls in his boot. Stumbling along, he managed to get out of the warehouse and keep her in sight while hopping on one foot to pull out the necklace.

"Hey!" he shouted after her. "Hey… Witch! Witch!" _Oz, I wish I had something to call her besides Witch… _She slowed a little, turning around.

"Diamond, my decision is final!" she said, preparing to speed off.

"I know, Mind and Matter talked to me about it," Fiyero said, hiding the pearls in his hand. "I wanted to give you something." Fiyero noticed her tense, reaching one hand toward where she probably kept her knife, but he couldn't blame her. Slowly, he took out the necklace and showed it to her.

"I wanted to give this to you," he said. She stared at it, eyes flickering along the length of the string.

"Where did you get that?" she asked.

"I held it back from pooling," Fiyero said. "I wanted to give it to you." He reached around to put it on her, but she knocked his arms on the wrists. The pearls clattered to the ground.

"_Moron_!" she shouted at him. "Nothing is to be held back! _Nothing_!" Fiyero stared at her, having not anticipated such a violent reaction.

"It won't be missed, with everything I gave to Ax-" There was a _bang_, and Fiyero found himself lying on the ground, the Witch's foot on the small of his back and his arm being twisted backward painfully.

"_All_ items secured are to be pooled for the pawn-runners," she snarled at him. "There are _no_ exceptions! Punishment is a kick between the legs so hard that if removes a chunk of your manhood!"

"Is this how you take a _gift_?!" Fiyero tried to protest, but the Witch only pulled his arm harder, earning a cry of pain.

"It's more than me! It's the community! I can't take privileges!" she said. "Give your fucking pearls to Switch. He's in charge of South Street, isn't he?"

"But I only-"

"Shut _up_, you stupid boy, before I remove your testicles with my foot!" She kicked Fiyero in the side once for 'good measure' before going on her way down the street.

Many, many curses ran through Fiyero's head as he lay there on the pavement. This was harder than the first time she beat him, and Fiyero couldn't help but notice that everything he did seemed to anger the Witch beyond measure. Gradually, he stood up, gathering up the discarded necklace and stuffing it in his pocket. He took a few steps, noticing how it hurt to put too much weight on his right foot. More (many, _many_ more) curses.

Limping, he worked his way back to the Court warehouse, cutting through toward South Street. The door echoed as he shut it, making him feel even more alone than before. At least, he had though he was alone when he noticed a single figure sitting on the whores' platform. _Glinda._

"You followed her," Glinda said seriously. The feminine bounce in her voice was gone, and she spoke with even determination. "She'd hate that."

"I'm getting the feeling she hates _me_," Fiyero pointed out. "Were you not hired tonight?"

"I'm keeping him waiting right now," Glinda said. "But you followed the Witch. Why?"

"I…" Fiyero flushed, thinking of his new injuries. The silence was broken when Glinda nodded.

"We shared dreams once," Glinda said. "The Witch and I. We were thirteen. She wanted to make a difference and do something great, to be somebody important, though she didn't necessarily want to be popular. She wanted those she cared about to stay safe. I wanted a man who would truly love me, someone who would teach me to read, and I wouldn't have to sell sex anymore. Someone with a job so he would get paid and I could work at whatever I wanted." Fiyero looked away. Glinda was very, very different when she wasn't offering him patronage.

"You never thought that we might hate what we do, did you?" Glinda continued. "Though I want to warn you. She was always different from us. If she wasn't, she would be right here with me, giving herself up to some man for a gold or two. She doesn't want the same things that my girls and I do."

"She has people she cares about," Fiyero pointed out. "She's capable of feeling."

"Maybe," Glinda said. "Maybe she doesn't want to feel. It's certainly easier if you don't." Fiyero looked toward the door her wanted, starting to walk toward it.

"You have a customer waiting," Fiyero said without a backward glance.

"You're not going to get much more than bruises out of her," Glinda advised, then stood and walked out another door.

_Maybe I don't care,_ Fiyero thought as he began the slow, painful walk home. _I'll survive on her talking to me._

Fiyero's arrival home was almost as awkward as his encounter with Glinda. He threw the pearls at Switch's bunk.

"Get those appraised," he said shortly, praying they wouldn't ask too many questions.

"What, why me?" Switch said, running the necklace through his fingers. "Where did you get this?"

"It doesn't matter," Fiyero snapped. "I didn't have the chance to give it to Ax. You fence it, or get it to him." Fiyero turned his back to his roommates, unfolding his bedroll with intense concentration. He could feel the eyes of the others behind him, but he ignored them, gingerly lying down on his unfolded bed.

"Hey, are you hurt?" Matter jumped up, pulling Fiyero's shirt before he could be stopped. "You are! That big red spot, right there! That's going to bruise," Mind looked at Fiyero seriously.

"What happened to you?" he asked. Fiyero clenched his jaw.

"It doesn't matter," Fiyero said.

"Yes it does, that's going to ache for a week!" Matter said, his eyes wide and concerned.

"Then I'll work it into my act!" Fiyero snapped. "Just… leave me alone." _Everybody. Leave me alone._


	6. Establishment

Fiyero felt haunted by the Witch's violent refusal of his gift, and the bruise on his side never failed to remind him of the ill-fated encounter. He let it guide his actions, understanding that where he had screwed up was where he refused to follow the rules. He spend his day of forced leisure without visible complaint; he went to the library, an aging, run-down and underfunded building that had obviously seen better days, and found a few mouse-eaten copper-novels he knew he would be able to understand. While he was literate, he wasn't quite the best reader, but now he blessed the soul of his grandmother for forcing him to learn. The rest of the day was spent scoping out the room, finding all the nooks and loose floorboards Matter had told him about. About half the compartments he found were already occupied, including one with Matter's comb in it, but a fair amount of them were still empty. He bought dinner late in the afternoon, but still found he had a decent amount of silver left. It made him wonder how others in his occupation spent their gold so that they continued to work for the Witch, grateful for when they got bonuses. How many lived above their means? How many lived below?

Having been completely alone most of the day, Fiyero was grateful for the chance to get to Court and see other people. He mingled among others, officially introducing himself to a few (a pair called Thorn and Hemlock; a set of hefty muggers). Midway through a story about a lady who had been carrying three platinums, Ax approached Fiyero and hit him on the arm.

"Your loot cleared two hundred golds," Ax said. "That's what we usually bring in all together in one day. And from what I hear from the others, yesterday was a good day… We might make over five golds apiece." Ax started story-telling about the tale he had spun for the jeweler–that his house had burned down and all they had managed to save was the jewelry, but none of the authentication papers, and that the jeweler had agreed to pay him in golds for easy division in Court, assuming Ax had bills to pay. Fiyero didn't pay much attention, waiting for Court to begin. Finally, out of boredom, Fiyero tapped Ax for attention.

"Was whatever you had to do last night finished, or can you still not help tomorrow?"

"Oh, it was last night," Ax said, shifting uncomfortably. "But the sooner you learn to get ready by yourself, the better. There's a water pump where East Street crosses twentieth, and the crate with the suit has a red stripe on it." Fiyero nodded, wondering what it was that Ax had been called to do. Whatever he was, he was secretive about it. The thieves all cashed in, with Fiyero feeling rather left out. It was almost as if he was looking in on a family dinner while he was alone outside. The rents were counted out, and the Witch asked for it all to be counted before being divided.

"We've cleared five hundred," Ax reported. "Five twelve, to be exact." A cheer rose up through the hall, and Ax tried to shift the glory to Fiyero. The Vinkan merely waved, glancing nervously at the Witch. Taking the spotlight would earn more punishment, he could tell.

"Order!" the Witch called. She lifted her hand and a small explosion of flame, like a firework, appeared above the crowd, resounding with the same intensity of a gunshot. "Order!"

And there was order. The Witch went on to describe the tale of the ancient famine, a religious story Fiyero recognized when a balding Unionist missionary had visited his village, failing to find converts. It described how the Ozma received strange visions, and a farm boy interpreted them to mean great bounty was coming, followed by terrible famine, and with careful planning many lives were saved. The thieves listened dutifully, before Ax spoke.

"What are you suggesting?" he asked.

"I am suggesting caution," the Witch said. "As Diamond is showing that he can bring large sums to the Court, we must be wary so that we won't be shell-shocked if it disappears."

"Have _you_ seen something that might mean Diamond won't last?" a voice called out.

"No," the Witch said, somewhat to Fiyero's relief. "But just because I don't see it doesn't mean it can't happen. I propose taking an extra thirty golds to reserve now, and I urge you all to set some aside for a barren day."

"Why are we always putting stuff in reserve?" someone complained from a dark corner.

"Who spoke?" the Witch said lowly. "Come forward if you wish to have that question answered." Apparently the question was not as urgent as it had been thought, and everyone stayed back. "Pay them. Zone one!"

Fiyero did end up paid that day, and received four golds. This was bordering on ridiculous; since he didn't have to worry about paying for a room, Fiyero barely knew what to do with the money. He could invest some in his act; buy dinky favors and coffees for his marks or something… _No._

He would make amends.

The months rolled by, with life setting into a relatively leisurely routine for Fiyero. Every other day he would work, and he experienced the touristic joys of the City while taking joy in closing the income gap, however illegally. He didn't take extra time to show off all he had acquired; he smoothed it all out before Court was called and quietly passed it off to Ax before settling back in the shadows. He learned the zones and where they stretched to, and how many people could work each zone. The Witch also seemed to pick on him less; she didn't remind Fiyero of probation of the off days, and for the most part ignored him. On the off days, he mostly read cheap thrill novels from the shabby library, and could almost feel his reading speed increasing and vocabulary expanding. He managed to replace his old pants and shirt before his shoes needed attention. Rarely speaking about the Witch anymore, he learned more about his roommates and friends; Avatar was Gillkinese, but dyed his hair with semi-regularity to throw off people on the lookout for a regular street hawker. Mind and Matter had once had their own identities (Mind was called Jackal; Matter had been called Enigma), but they had appealed for change after meeting each other. Ax used to have a Pathetic Child act; he would steal from someone and let the mark catch him, playing off the fact he was so short and young-looking to receive food or spare change. As he was starting to age out and look too old, he was made pawn-runner by the Witch. He and Fiyero were the same age, and the Vinkan continued to wonder how Ax became a pawn-runner when all of the others were easily ten years his senior.

Fiyero also ended up learning a lot more about how the Court itself worked. About a week after his acceptance, Fiyero had arrived in Court to find that the whore's platform was empty.

"Where are they?" Fiyero asked Ax, pointing to the platform.

"One of them got pregnant," Ax said, a hint of pity in his voice. "So they all stay home to assist with the miscarriage."

"The _what?_" Fiyero repeated in shock. Miscarriage?!

"Think about it," Ax said. "If one of them gets pregnant, and they let it live, then that's one girl who can't work for a year or more, a mouth to feed that can't help the sisterhood, and another bastard urchin in the streets. It also brings me back to how these girls are rich beyond the wildest dreams of street prostitutes. They get enough food each day to actually get pregnant, and can afford for all of them to stay home and help. Either it hurts or it's messy, I'm not sure, but they stay home until it's over."

"It's inhumane," Fiyero said, studying the empty platform. Killing unborn children just wasn't done back home.

"It's survival," Ax countered. "Would you kill an unborn baby or drag down a sisterhood of twenty adult women?" Fiyero had no response to that, and was saved trying to come up with one when the Witch called for order. The next day, the whores were back, and Fiyero wondered which one of them had been forced to kill their baby, and if she felt some sort of loss. None of them showed it if they did, but he guessed that was a part of their job. Nobody wanted to fuck a woman with baggage.

Three times the Court had to exert justice among itself; one of Glinda's whores had apparently been beaten by a customer, and the abuse had been reported. The girl had been brought forth, and under gentle questioning by the Witch, described her injuries. It was the only time Fiyero had ever seen the Witch show tenderness toward someone. The man was brought forward, and the Witch beat him in the same places where he had injured the girl. The terror on the man's face and the way he didn't fight back suggested magic. The other two crimes were instances of stealing from thieves; the thumbs on their opposite-dominant hands were broken, and the value of what was stolen was repaid.

Hemlock the mugger, the acquaintance of Fiyero's, disappeared. The word went around he was caught, and after that, he was never spoken of again.

Time passed, and despite outward appearances, Fiyero continued to harbor a fascination to the point of crush for the Witch. It was insane, he knew, but it gave his life a twisted purpose, and kept the monotony from growing too severe. Many a sleepless night, Fiyero would just lay there, staring at the empty bunk above him and waiting for sleep to finally claim him, thinking about his new life and how he was leading it. On these nights, he found that Switch and Mind breathed in perfect tandem: a snore from the pawn-runner quickly followed by a breathy exhale from the black-haired thief. You could set a clock to it. One night, Fiyero started when he saw Matter gingerly creep over Mind and cross to Fiyero's bed. The Vinkan thief sat up as Matter seated himself at the foot of Fiyero's bed.

"You're not asleep," Matter whispered. Fiyero shook his head. "You've been having bad dreams."

"You can tell?" Fiyero asked, somewhat ashamed. Matter nodded.

"You keep asking for someone to tell you their name, when you're asleep. And you twitch." Matter said, imitating the twitch.

"Great, now I sleep-talk," Fiyero mumbled.

"It's not _every_ night," Matter said consolingly. "I'll take three guesses as to who you're asking to be properly introduced to, and I'll pretend the first two don't count. You want to know the Witch's name." Fiyero shifted, glad that it was dark and Matter couldn't see his face clearly.

"Doesn't everyone want to know the Witch's name?" Fiyero avoided the question.

"Yes, but we all want to know each other's names. It's human curiosity," Matter said. "To actually share your birth name with someone else is a lot like tying the knot, but it's deeper than a set of rings. It means no more secrets, no more fake faces, and no more lies, and you promise to be who you truly are when you're with that person forever. And imagine breaking up with a person who knows your name and could use it against you at any moment, especially if that person is jealous or resentful."

"Do you know Mind's name?" Fiyero asked. Matter sighed romantically.

"Yeah…" Matter said. "It was the happiest day of my life when we traded names." Fiyero looked down, wishing that he could put up the guards he wore during the day in his sleep and avoid awkward conversations like this in the middle of the night.

"Don't despair, my friend," Matter said consolingly. "If there is anyone in all of Oz that could can make the Witch share her name, it's you." Fiyero pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes.

"That makes it sound like I'm torturing her, forcing her to tell it to me." Matter leaned in a little.

"I've traded names with Mind, don't forget that," Matter said. "But _you_ are one sexy hunk of Winkie wrongdoer. When the time comes, she _will_ be forced to tell you her name." Fiyero started laughing. "I shit you not! You're one of the hottest males in Court!" The mirth died down a second later for fear of waking Switch and Mind.

"It's just I keep thinking about what Switch said on day one," Fiyero said. "She doesn't let just anyone mess around with her heart."

"Well, you're not just anyone, now are you?" Matter said. "I found a stash of golds yesterday. No, I didn't take any; I like my thumbs. Point is, they're not Mind's, they're not mine, and I don't think Switch is into saving, so they're yours. What are you saving for?"

Fiyero told him about his first day working, how he had held back a string of pearls to give to the Witch, and how she had nearly killed him when he tried to give them to her.

"So you're saving to get her something more legit?" Matter said. "Aww… That's so romantic!"

"Shut up," Fiyero felt his face grow hot. Speaking to Matter was almost like speaking to a girl. An embarrassingly gossipy girl.

"Well, it is!" Matter insisted. "Mind saved up to buy me this coat, and I wear it to death." Matter tugged on the lapel of the trench coat. "It was right before he told me his name, he gave me this coat. I love it almost as much as him." Fiyero looked at the lump in his blanket that represented his feet.

"I don't think I could get the Witch a coat," Fiyero said.

"Something simple, though," Matter said. "Jewelry, but make sure it's simple. The whores go for big and flashy things. And tag a practical use to it."

Fiyero leaned back, still thinking of all that Matter had told him. A way to make the jewelry practical was easy, but he just felt so nervous about actually approaching the Witch.

"Hey," the gay thief said. "If you ever have trouble getting to sleep, I'll share something with you," Matter hopped off of Fiyero's bed and counted out floorboards, lifting a section and pulling out a bottle.

"It's beer," Matter promised, shaking the bottle. The liquid inside sloshed around with plenty of space. "Just enough to tire you out while not enough to give you a noticeable hangover the next morning. An Oz-send on nights you can't sleep," Matter handed the bottle to Fiyero. "Just if you're thinking of taking regularly, make sure you give back a little."

"I'll be sure," Fiyero said, taking a swig. It wasn't the coldest thing he had ever tasted, but it would definitely serve the purpose Fiyero wanted it to.

"'Night, Diamond!" Matter called softly, climbing back into bed with Mind.

"'Night, Matter," Fiyero responded, swigging again. There wasn't much there, but Fiyero could feel it beginning to help. He finally lay back and willed sleep to come, and wasn't disappointed.

_Matter sat with Mind's arm around him, watching the people strolling in one of the City's struggling parks. He pulled the coat Mind had bought him tighter, lazing in how warm it was._

_"I love the coat," Matter said again._

_"You do, do you?" Mind said thoughtfully. "Do you love me?"_

_"Absolutely," Matter said, worried that Mind doubted him. "We've gone by without coats and fancy things like that, and I've loved you that whole while."_

_"You keep saying you love the coat," Mind pointed out._

_"It's because it's new, and it's warm," Matter pulled it tighter around him. "And it feels like I'm in your arms." Mind smiled, the beautiful toothless smile that Matter loved._

_"I'm going to tell you my name," Mind said. Matter sat up, taking Mind's hands._

_"You're sure?"_

_"I was sure I wanted to tell you the moment I met you. I just had to know if you would want me to."_

_"I want you to…" Mind started trembling, and Matter trembled along with him._

_"My name is Tibbet." Matter smiled, leaning in to kiss Tibbet._

_"Tibbet," he said, giving him a kiss on the nose. "Tibbet," he moved to the cheeks. "Tibbet…"Tibbet stopped him._

_"I know my name," Tibbet said._

_"I didn't," Matter said. "And it's making me less nervous."_

_"You don't have to be nervous," Tibbet said. "I'm yours forever." Matter took a deep breath._

_"My name is Crope," Crope said._

_The two shared their first kiss as Crope and Tibbet. _


	7. The Hands of the Enemy

**

* * *

**

_Suggested by bloodymary2_

She was doing it again. That whole second-guessing thing that was happening all too often for her liking. It was right before Court, as she sat on the roof of some forgotten building and watched the Western sky and the sunset, trying to gauge how fast it was moving and how much time she had left. As of late, she had begun thinking as she measured the sun. Thinking about her life, the Court, all she had done and all she had left to do. She had been doing it alone for so long. Glinda certainly supported her, and the Court obeyed her, but everything she had done she had done alone. Even since she had a sense of who she was, she began doing things by herself. Learning to read. Learning to survive.

And then…

She hit her leg, shocking herself out of her own thoughts before she went too far. Her last refuge, her own mind, had been poisoned, and she knew it.

Time for Court.

* * *

The weeks continued, growing out into months. Matter was the only one who knew it was Fiyero's intention to truly court the Witch for her affections, thought Mind and Switch occasionally joked with Fiyero about his interest, not thinking he was serious. The joke seemed to work its way around the Court, below the radar screen, twisted and toned down to mere attraction, and eventually worked its way to Glinda. She seemed to take offense to Fiyero experiencing any romantic feelings for her friend and ally in Court, but showed her distaste by doubling her solicitation efforts. However, Fiyero noticed how Ax always started leering at him, and that the Munchkinlander was usually first to claim Glinda after Court was adjourned, so Fiyero just tried to brush off the prostitute as politely as he could.

Less than a week after midnight soul-sharing with Matter, a thief called Dagger brought in a new recruit. Fiyero looked over the fresh blood, noticing the stereotypical Quadling traits; dusty rose skin, brilliant red hair, and thin arms with thick hands.

"Witch," Dagger addressed the Witch with the same format Avatar had used to bring in Fiyero. "I found a new recruit. He looks to work as a burglar. His name is Spider." Fiyero could sense the thieves around him tense in anticipation, a feeling he hadn't noticed when he was the one being inducted.

"This should be good," Avatar said.

"What do you mean?" Fiyero asked as the small Quadling stepped into the center. He couldn't have been much older than fifteen.

"Recruit-baiting is like a sport," Avatar said. "Watch." The Witch was tapping one finger on her throne as she looked over the new recruit.

"A spider," she said with flat sarcasm. "Oh no. Quick. Run. Get a newspaper. Oh, such a scary spider. I'm terrified." She sat up straighter, leering over the Quadling boy. "You might be thinking, 'oh, Spider! What a clever name! Like I can walk on walls!' I have to ask, have you ever heard the expression that what you fear is more scared of you than you are of it? That would mean if spiders are such a feared animal, they must be one of the most cowardly." Fiyero watched the Quadling bow his head and withdraw, running his hands over in his hand.

"Ri- Spider is orphaned," he said. "Spider is not to know where to go."

"So you force your presence on the first people you come across?" the Witch accused.

"Spider to hunt for three days to find here! To live in the streets!"

"_I've_ lived in the streets!" the Witch shot back. "You'd be hard pressed to find a man here who _hasn't_ lived on the streets or worse. Witch is to think you is to be a moron." The 

imitation of Quadling speech sent laughter rippling through the crowd, but Fiyero stayed silent. He had the strangest sense that she didn't like playing that card, making fun of his race. He didn't blame her.

"Though tell me, Spider," the Witch said. "Can you read?" Spider shook his head, shrinking down further. "All right. Who wants to test Spider?" She pulled out another copper. Fiyero couldn't help but notice how none of the girls immediately jumped up, but finally a dark brunette left the platform and stood in the center, arms folded. The Witch challenged him to take the girl's jewelry, and immediately Spider left the girl's line of sight to sneak up. He got her necklace and earrings, but Fiyero could tell where he went wrong on the bracelet. It was a thick, brace-like thing; he should have tried to take it off of her wrist rather than pull it over her hand.

"You'll do," the Witch said. "You are to report to the dorm on South Street. Who has room for a midnight burglar?" A man raised his hand. "All right. Spider, you may steal from any dwelling you wish between seventh and fifteenth street. Diamond!" Fiyero jumped, sitting up straighter and turning to face her.

"Yes?!" he called. Was he in trouble again? He couldn't be; he had been good as gold!

"You are to instruct Spider in our rules. Now, zone one, turn out!" Spider was left in the middle, and Fiyero took the initiative to pull him out to the side as the pawn-runners and first zone stepped forward to divide.

"Hey," Fiyero said. "I'm Diamond. Welcome to the Court." The Quadling glanced up at the Witch as she called out zones.

"Ri- Spider does not to feel welcomed," the boy said, almost using his real name on accident again. Fiyero spent a moment wrestling with his grammar.

"Don't worry about her," Fiyero said. "Follow the rules and you'll do fine. She's got our best interests at heart, trust me."

"Spider does not to see any heart," Spider hugged his elbows close to him. Fiyero was about to respond when he felt someone jump on his shoulders.

"Diamond!" Matter hissed. "Teaching recruits is saved for people the Witch trusts! Always the 'runners, so this means she trusts you!"

"No shit?!" Fiyero said back, pulling Matter off his back.

"No shit!" the brown-haired thief said excitedly.

"Zone three, turn out!"

"That's Mind and I," Matter said, waving at Fiyero. "Good luck!" Fiyero watched them go, before remembering that Spider was still staring at him.

"This happens every day," Fiyero said. "We all pool what we earn and then re-divide it, so we all get paid."

"Spider to think it not to work," he said. "One thief to earn more alone, or one thief to earn less. Thief with more not to want to share with less thief."

"Thing is, the Witch provides us with rooms," Fiyero said. "Well, one room for a bunch of people, but we have permanent homes."

"To find friends, and to set up rooms," Spider argued. "You not to need Witch."

"Look, you probably weren't expecting a big Court, but at least follow her rules since it just so happens she's in charge. That's how I got where I am, and frankly, I like it."

"Spider is not Diamond," Spider said.

"How well do you climb?" Fiyero changed the subject. "I'm pretty sure you would have chosen Spider because you can climb well." Spider nodded.

"Spider is to climb like the spiders," he said.

"Well, the beds in the rooms are bunk beds," Fiyero said. "There's not much space, but if you want to climb, I'd let you sleep above me."

"Who else to sleep with Spider and Diamond?" Spider asked.

"The man third from the left," Fiyero said, pointing. "He's Switch, and he's in charge of the room." He also pointed out Mind and Matter, making sure to tell Spider that they were gay.

"They love to each other?" Spider's jaw dropped.

"I almost 'walked in on them' on my first day in Court," Fiyero said.

"Pay zone one!" Spider looked out at the thieves again.

"Another reason with why we all keep coming here and pooling earnings is that it keeps things consistent," Fiyero said. "You'll always get at least two golds a day, maybe more, and if you can find other thieves then you're safe from the law. If you're not a part of the Court, and we catch you committing a crime, we'll either teach you to walk on the right side of the law or invite you in."

"Diamond does not to give money to Witch," Spider said.

"Not today," Fiyero said. "My act is that I pretend I'm some upper-class bastard and steal from the particularly rich. It's called a Puss in Boots act. The Witch has me working every other day so that nobody notices." Fiyero excused himself a minute later to receive pay; the extra coins had been deemed too small to divide, and everyone went home with two golds.

Mind and Matter sought out Fiyero and the new recruit, offering congratulations to the new thief on his acceptance, along with a key to the South Street dorm. Spider had skills to be used at night, though, so the three of them pointed out where he was allowed to work and turned him loose, wishing him luck.

"So," Mind said after they had let Spider go to work. "Is the Witch planning to make you a 'runner?"

"No, he brings in too much to make him a 'runner," Matter said.

"But the Witch still trusts him enough to teach a recruit? That's for the 'runners."

"Puss in Boots is kind of an odd-one-out the way the 'runners are," Matter said. "And you really did clean up your act, Diamond."

"Yeah…" Fiyero didn't mind having them talk about him. The Witch trusts him. Who would have thought? He never would have dreamed of it.

And nobody could have dreamed of what happened next.

* * *

**Again, thank bloodymary2. She suggested the intro scene, and after editing the beginning, I realized this chapter was simply too short. Happy Summer.**

* * *

The morning was just like any other to Fiyero; sitting and waiting for an unsuspecting group to take the bait of him sitting alone. He flipped a silver around in his hand, hoping the parlor trick would attract someone, anyone, at this point. It was boring as hell, just sitting here.

A gentleman with a file folder approached Fiyero, sitting down without a word. Fiyero stared at him, too confused to truly show surprise. The man slid a slip of paper across the table to Fiyero, who unfolded it. _'Animals should be seen'_ it said. Fiyero looked up at the gentleman and waved his hand ambiguously. The gentleman interpreted it as asking for a pen, which he provided for Fiyero. _I have to write a response…_ he thought. Uncapping the pen, he remembered a phrase that had come up while cleaning off a pair of particularly shallow twins. "Animals should be seen and not heard." That's it. Carefully, so his handwriting wouldn't give him away, he completed the slanderous phrase.

_Animals should be seen __and not heard._ The gentleman took the paper back, and after reading it, gave Fiyero the file folder and left. The Vinkan thief opened it, pulling out a stack of 

papers. The top of the cover sheet was emblazoned with the Wizard's official seal, and below it was a long list of names, animal species, and addresses all over Oz. Fiyero back to the top of the list, wondering why all these names were assembled together.

_The following Animals are to be convicted for treason and kept in cages until they cease speaking._ Fiyero's wrinkled his brow, wondering what a cage was. He turned the page, only to be presented with instructions on how to build a cage. It involved a metal grid, formed into a kind of box, designed to be not much bigger than the Animal that was supposed to be put inside of it. _That's just cruel!_

"Excuse me?" a girl had approached Fiyero. Hastily, he shut the file and set it between his feet. "What were you reading?"

"Oh," Fiyero said, smiling. "Nothing."

"No, it certainly looks important," she said, sitting down.

"If you must know," Fiyero leaned in, thinking fast. "I work with the Wizard. Top secret." Her interest was sparked, and it gave him an excuse to leave fifteen minutes later, but Fiyero couldn't stop thinking about the magnitude of the file he had intercepted. Animals being imprisoned? For no good reason? There is no way that all of those Animals from such different backgrounds could have all committed the same treason. As a man who breaks laws, Fiyero thought he knew most of them.

He had to carry the file with him all day, growing more and more repulsed by it as the time until Court wore on. He would have to give this to the Witch, no doubt about that. There was nothing else to do; she probably had heard of some of these Animals before, too, if they were so important the Wizard wanted them gone.

_Gone._

That made it sound so severe. Though, considering how Fiyero had lived his life for the last six months, it probably was.


	8. Rewards for Idiotic Valor

Being at Court was like being a new recruit again; he changed quickly, but held onto the file like no tomorrow. He even avoided his friends, and nearly jumped out of his skin when the Witch called for order. Fiyero stepped forward, suddenly feeling nervous. He didn't have a recruit with him, and had no idea how he should address the Witch with his discovery.

"Witch!" he called out. He noticed how the men around him prepared for a new recruit. _They're going to be disappointed, _Fiyero thought. "Witch… Today while working, I was approached by a dignitary of the Wizard. He mistook me for a contact, and gave me these files." Fiyero held out the folder, taking a few steps so she could take it. Skimming the first sheet, he could see the outrage building on her face. She began to read aloud, spitting the words like spears.

"The following Animals are to be convicted for treason and kept in cages until they cease speaking. Dr. N. Ainoro, Mare; Pastor B. Cantifilous, Badger; Dr. S. Dillamond, Goat…" The list continued, naming famed doctors, professors, religious figureheads, journalists, male and female, every one of them in a position of influence and every one of them an Animal. Fiyero knew the list provided addresses as well, where the Animals could be found and captured.

The list came to a close; "Miss O. Zorota, Rabbit. By order of His Supreme Ozness, the Great and Terrible Wizard, by the twenty ninth of November." The Witch closed the list in the file, shutting her eyes.

"We have to do something," she said. "Every Animal on that list is an innocent! Animals are being _prosecuted_ by the very Wizard that prosecutes us!"

"But they aren't a part of the Court!" someone shouted. "They aren't us!"

"Who here is a Unionist!?" Fiyero could practically watch the Witch grow hysterical. She was losing control in the face of such an outrage. "They are prosecuting Unionists! Lurlinists, Legalists, the Pleasure Faith, every belief system that exists in our great Oz, every cultural background! They are no different from us!"

"But what are we going to do about it?!" A sickly looking man stepped into the center, with shiny pale skin, greasy hair, and bloodshot eyes. "What are we supposed to do?! There are easily fifty Animals on that list all over fucking Oz! How are we supposed to protect them all?! We barely protect ourselves! Just last week I saw a friend of mine, I watched a friend get carted off to SouthStairs! How can we save the Animals if I couldn't save him?"

"Step one is stopping the conviction order," the Witch said, brandishing the file. "And we're not going to go and guard them all. We're going to take down the Wizard."

The hall was sent into uproar.

"The Wizard?!"

"He'll kill us all!"

"He'll _blink_ and kill us all!"

"The Gale Force, too?!"

"Too many!"

"Not enough of us!"

"_Silence_!" The Witch started to scream, but nobody listened. Fiyero looked around at the distressed men, the whores shrunk back in fear, and the hall was out of control. Fiyero joined the Witch's command, 'Silence, silence', looking to Switch, Ax, and the pawn-runners, Mind, Matter, Avatar, and Spider. Gradually, the protests were silenced, leaving a haunting quiet hanging in the air. Fiyero looked around, trying to see what the plan was.

There was no plan. Just the righteous desire to bring down the man that was silencing the Animals.

"Hey," Fiyero said, waving at Ax. "C'mere." Ax looked at him for a moment, before walking forward. "Who here thinks they can take Ax and I down?!" The hall just stared at him, even Ax. "Who here thinks they can fight two grown men and win?"

"Just one of us?"

"No, as many as you like. All of you, if you want."

"Hey, I don't want a part of this!" Ax shouted, backing away from Fiyero. The Vinkan merely shrugged, turning back to the hall.

"So half the Gale Force would run away," Fiyero said. "Who thinks they can take on just me?" There was another moment of silence as the men realized what this meant. Two ran up to Fiyero, preparing to swing punches. Fiyero fended them off the best he could, but before long, more joined the fight, and he was overwhelmed. His attackers were hitting to stun, but they were still hitting hard. His nose began to bleed; he suspected his eyes were blackened, his chest, jaw, shins, ribs, all burned with pain.

"Enough!" the Witch called at last, throwing the mob away from Fiyero with magic. "What was the purpose of that, Diamond, pray tell, or do you have a death wish?!" Fiyero just lay on the ground for a minute, gathering his strength.

"If… If that's what we can do to a man," Fiyero managed at last. "Then the Gale Force doesn't stand a chance… Especially not if we organize ourselves…" He was standing shakily, with barely enough force to remain on his feet. "We are a force to be sworn upon… The Court of Thieves can make the Quoxwood tremble and the sky bow to our feet!" The Witch understood where he was going, and stood up from the throne, crossing to Fiyero and making sure he didn't fall over. Shivers raced down his spine as she held onto his forearms.

"We may fear the Wizard," she said. "But it's the Wizard who should be afraid. Of us!" She guided him to the corner of her platform, letting him sit down. "We will be triumphant! All we must do is believe in our own strength! We have the force to crush the Wizard ten times over!"

Cheers replaced what had been shouts of anger minutes before. Made-up anti-Wizard slogans were shouted, and even the whores were screaming in support. The Witch climbed back to her platform, but didn't sit down. Fiyero noticed how she was taking deep breaths. _Understandably,_ he thought. _That's a lot of energy that might snap. She's handling a bomb._

"We will be organized," the Witch said. "An army of the few, but the mightiest. Weapons, training, anything we might need. We'll have spies in the Gale Force, and when the time comes, nothing will stop us."

"Weapons?" someone said. The Witch nodded at him.

"The best. We'll all have to give something; I will give two golds from my cut each day." Fiyero raised his eyebrows. Could the Witch really spare that? He and his dorm had already decided that the whole five golds were getting spent.

"What do we have to give?" another voice said.

"Just the bonuses. You'll keep your normal pay, but anyone who depends on bonuses will have to cut back." Murmurs went through the men; they hadn't expected something so easily sacrificed."

"Witch!" Glinda hopped down off the whores' platform, taking the center. "My girls and I have decided that we would be willing to part with any extra money we receive from day to day."

"Unacceptable, Glinda," the Witch said. "The economy of the Court will be crippled until the Wizard is dead. You all will need every copper you earn."

"You've taught us well," Glinda said, her mouth twitching with some secret knowledge. "We will only give you what we can spare." The Witch nodded.

"Thank you, Glinda," she said. "Now, zone one! Turn out!"

Fiyero had never watched the pooling from this vantage point before, and it was an interesting experience. He could see the faces of the thieves as they gave up what they had earned that day. Every twitch of his body sent new waves of pain through him, but he still managed to smooth out what he had earned that day without attracting too much attention. The Witch called for Fiyero, and he managed to limp up and give his share to Ax.

"Sorry to bail, but…" Ax looked over Fiyero's battered body, wincing. Fiyero nodded.

"I get it. It's okay." Fiyero didn't go back to where he had been sitting; instead he found a stack of crates and leaned against it. He thought he caught the Witch looking at him, but the next moment she called to pay zone one. Nobody bothered to count out the money; with the new wartime efforts, all that mattered was what was left over. Fiyero's friends found him, Spider, Mind, and Matter.

"Man, that looks like it hurts," Mind commented, giving Fiyero a rag for his still bleeding nose.

"Thanks." He dabbed at flow of blood. "I hope it's not broken."

"If you're talking so easily, probably not. Either that or you just don't feel pain."

"No, I feel pain," Fiyero assured them. "This fucking hurts."

"If it makes you feel any better, Mind and I weren't a part of your beating," Matter said consolingly.

"Spider is not to beat Diamond," Spider piped up.

"I think Switch was a part of it, but I don't think he got close enough to you." Fiyero grimaced.

"Well, that's what I wanted them to do," he said. "Beat me up."

"Got what you wanted…" Mind muttered.

"Zone seven!" the Witch called. Fiyero tried to stand up, but Matter held him back as Mind went forward to ferry his pay to where he was sitting.

"Take pride," the Witch told the Court. "You beat up a man so badly that he can't get his own money. Court adjourned!" Fiyero looked up at the Witch, waiting for her to disappear into the shadows, but she stayed seated for a moment. Catching Fiyero's eye, she motioned her hand for him to follow her, then vanished.

"I gotta go," Fiyero said, trying to stand up.

"You're not going anywhere like that," Mind said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"No," Fiyero looked to Matter. "This is important." Matter raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Let him go," Matter said, weaving his arm around Mind's waist. "It's okay." Mind gave Matter a funny look, but allowed himself to be led away, trailed by Spider. Fiyero stood, taking shaky steps toward the shadows behind the Witch's throne. The Witch was waiting for him, just as he had expected- no, not expected. He had hoped against hope that she had been signaling to him. He spread his arms as if he were on display

"Here I am," he said.

"There you are," was the curt reply. "It is my intention to heal you, as you have received potentially crippling wounds from that stunt of yours."

"Really?" Fiyero said. A second too late, Fiyero realized that he hadn't been that specific. He was surprised that the Witch wanted to heal him; she probably thought he was shocked that his injuries might be permanent. The Witch rolled her eyes.

"Yes. Really." she said. "Follow me."

There was nothing for him to do but follow. Trying to sort out everything running through his head was too hard; hope that he might get closer to the Witch, distrust because it would be too good to be true, amazement that it was happening, and to him, and the nervous rush of having what he knew was an unscheduled meeting. Nobody met with the Witch after Court.

She led him down a few streets, staying half a step in front of him but going slow enough for him to stay close. He tried to make conversation, but she apparently she was only interested in telling him what he needed to know.

"That was quite a display of magic back there."

"It needed to happen, and it did."

"Ever had any training?"

"No."

"…Well, thanks for caring."

"It wasn't caring."

"They would have stopped eventually. I would have been okay."

"You created a feeding frenzy. They would not have stopped. You would be dead."

"Oh… Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe. And if it ceases to be safe because of you, you and everyone you told will be punished. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good."

She had led him to a low building near the edge of the City, the trade district where raw goods were brought in. The particular building the two of them approached was a corn exchange. The Witch placed her left hand on the door handle, saying in a clear voice, "Reasonability." The lock clicked, and she switched hands to open the door.

The room was very large, about three times the size of Fiyero's own dorm, but it had obviously not been designed as a residential dwelling. Furniture had been arranged sparsely around the room; a set of shelves with dishware, flatware, and several thick books, a notched table with a single wooden chair, a stowed bedroll, a cabinet, a bucket of water for cleaning, and then finally, another bedroll with a person in it.

"Hey, Nessie," the Witch said quietly, sitting down beside the figure on the bedroll. It stirred, and Fiyero recognized it as a young brunette girl with a china doll's delicate face and pale complexion. A soft sheen of sweat made her shimmer in the dying light, almost as if she would disappear if a strong wind came by. Her mouth formed a weak smile as the Witch sat next to her.

"I brought someone new home, Nessa," the Witch said. "His name is Diamond." The girl forced her eyes open further, focusing the brown orbs on Fiyero. She waved feebly, and Fiyero waved back, feeling slightly sickened by the tragic image the girl conjured. "Did Ax come by today?"

"Yeah…" the girl, Nessa, said. "He helped clean…"

"That's nice of him. Have you eaten today?"

"No…"

"Are you hungry?"

"Not really…"

"Well, dinner will be ready in a little while. Try to eat something, okay?"

"Okay…" The Witch kissed Nessa on the forehead.

"Rest until then." She stood and turned back to Fiyero, pointing toward the chair. He sat down in it, staring at the Witch to avoid looking at the pathetic girl on the bedroll.

"Who is she?"

"My sister. Nessarose. She's very sick; talk quietly so you won't disturb her." The Witch knelt down on one knee, surveying Fiyero's face. She braced herself, then pressed one hand against his eye, sending chills down his spine. A moment later, her fingers grew unnaturally hot, transferring heat into his skin. The pain started to go away. She moved her hand to his other eye, his jaw, his forehead, once across the bridge of his nose. He was tempted to kiss her hand when it rested over his mouth to heal a split and swelling lip, but decided against it. He would shatter the Witch's trust if he moved too fast.

Facial injuries healed, the Witch drew back, breathing slowly as if trying to catch her breath.

"Hey, are you all right?" Fiyero said concernedly.

"Magic is harder when I'm trying to use it," she gasped. "Most magic happens when emotions are running high." Of course. Whenever the Court got riled up, there was a lot of emotion in the air. No doubt there was a lot of emotion as Fiyero had asked for the Court to attack him.

"Well, if you're using that much energy to heal me, I won't let you," Fiyero said.

"Are you touched? You don't know how severe those may be."

"It's okay. I'll be fine. I'll tell marks I had a skiing accident or something." The Witch shook her head.

"The instant I have you figured out, you do or say something stupid," the Witch said.

"Well, I thought I had you as figured out as I ever could until I found you have a sister." The Witch folded her arms.

"She's a half-sister, that I know. The chances are one in ten thousand we share a father."

"Though still, she's a sister all the same." Fiyero looked at the girl on the bedroll. _Nessarose. _Nessarose called Nessa, or Nessie. The Witch looked up, jaw set.

"If you won't let me tire myself healing you, go to the Court warehouse at noon tomorrow. I'll continue then."

"No, you really don't have to do that," Fiyero said, not even comprehending that it meant another meeting with the Witch outside of the Court.

"I know," the Witch said. Fiyero stayed where he was, almost waiting for her to finish her sentence. When she noticed him waiting, she put her hands on her hips and saying, more or less pleasantly, "Oh, just get the fuck out of here." Fiyero smirked, raising his hands in surrender and leaving the corn exchange.

Walking home that day was like walking on cloud nine. He had never felt the pavement fall away beneath his feet, as if he were walking near the tops of the buildings. He had never noticed how beautiful the scraps of vegetation in the streets were, like a streak of glittering gold in oxidized bronze. Even on South Street, he heard a bird singing. He had never known there were wild birds on that street. _I guess I just never noticed them before,_ Fiyero thought, letting himself in the door.

"Diamond! Where've you been?" Matter.

"What was it you had to go and do?" Mind.

"Are you okay? You looked like shit." Switch. _Well, at least he's pretending to care._

"I'm good," Fiyero said, preparing his bunk.

"Well? What was it?" Mind asked.

"It was the Witch," Fiyero said. "She healed the worst of my face."

"A big deal for a witch-lover like you," Switch said.

"I also found out how she can spend five golds a day," Fiyero said, knowing his friends had been curious about the same thing. "There's a sick girl that she's nursing. She's dead weight, and the Witch has to support her and try to get her healthy again."

"Wow," Mind said. "I wouldn't have figured she'd be running a hospital." Fiyero shrugged. He was just glad that the rest of the dorm had assumed it was a random person of no consequence the Witch was trying to heal, not a sister.

"How's she going to make ends meet if she just gave up two golds a day for the war effort?" Switch said. Matter and Fiyero's eyes met, both suddenly understanding how the Witch was going to supplement her income.

"She'll find a way," Matter said aloud. "Now let's get some sleep. If Diamond says anything else, the Witch'll come down on us for treason to the Court." Everyone agreed, but Fiyero knew he would find no sleep that night. Not even bothering with Matter's beer, he just lay there. He thought over everything that had happened, Nessa, the Witch's home, the war, the tingling sensation he got when she had touched his face.

It had been a big day.


	9. The Stirrings of War

Fiyero woke the next morning when Spider came home. The two exchanged greetings–Fiyero had new insight into how hard it was to deal with a schedule that had you working nights but still up at sundown–before Fiyero left to give Spider quiet so he could sleep. He spent the morning walking around the Emerald Palace, testing the waters, almost. He would send evil, traitorous thoughts toward the Wizard, and tried to see if he would get smited. As of eleven that morning, Fiyero had not been smited, and was beginning to think that the Wizard might not have smiting-powers after all.

_Well, that makes our fight a lot easier,_ Fiyero thought. _He may still be stronger than us, but he can't kill us in the blink of an eye. _He then realized that his experiment might have merely proven the Wizard didn't have telepathy, but he disregarded it. There was also the question of how strong the Witch was when compared to the Wizard, and if it would make a difference if they could get some training for her. Brute force magic was good, but if it tired her out so quickly then it wasn't as effective.

Making a detour to the dorm, Fiyero collected the money he was going to use to buy the Witch a necklace, then reported to the Court warehouse. By now, he was used to how empty the building was when Court wasn't in session, but he had never been here expecting someone else, let alone the Witch. It added something to the experience. Anticipation, he guessed, but for some reason it made him notice the throne more. It was uncomfortable-looking, a heavy thing, but it was large and imposing, like a throne would be expected to be. Gingerly, he sat down beside it, staring up at the empty space, imagining the Witch from this new angle.

"I thought I would find you _in_ the chair," her disembodied voice resonated around the hall, making Fiyero jump.

"It's not my chair," Fiyero said, and an instant later, she was in the throne, sitting as if she had been there the whole time. _She's good,_ Fiyero thought. "That's a nice trick."

"I don't generally like tricks," she said, smirking. "But for you, I'd make an exception." Okay, not exactly the kind of exception he liked, but it was an exception on his behalf all the same. "Right. So what hurts the most?" Fiyero, emboldened by the 'exception', decided to take a chance.

"My ribs," he said, pulling off his shirt. Unnecessary, but if Matter was right, it might help.

_Wait, help? Help what?_ Fiyero thought as the Witch examined him, apparently not caring that he had his shirt off. _What am I trying to do? What do I want from her? Am I really that pathetic?_

"I'd hazard a guess you have broken ribs," the Witch said. "Try not to move." Fiyero nodded, getting chills again as she placed one hand on each side of his ribs. Her fingers grew hot again as she drew on her magic, and the pain began to subside. Unrelated to the healing injuries, it was one of the best things he had ever felt.

Her hands dropped, and she sat back, exhausted. They sat there for a moment, Fiyero in awe of the Witch, and the Witch trying to get some strength back. He spoke to break the silence.

"Nessa had mentioned that Ax comes over," Fiyero said. "Why?"

"She likes him," the Witch said. "They make a cute couple, don't you think?"

"But Ax hires Glinda," Fiyero said. "As often as possible."

"Ax is older than Nessa," the Witch said. "Old enough to have sexual urges that I would kill him over if he released them with Nessa. And his money is going to Glinda, so I can't blame him for that. Nessa may like him, but she's still too young to… we'll say 'fully suit' him."

"And what is Nessa sick with?" Fiyero asked.

"I have no idea," the Witch said. "She's been sick for a few years now. A slow-moving disease. Every once in a while, I have enough money to visit a doctor. They've all said it's a different disease, and they've given me pills and rituals but the pills run out and she's not better. Seems the only thing to do is let her rest and hope she gets better."

"Why haven't you gotten sick?"

"Maybe my father passed me an immunity that Nessa's father didn't. Comes from being half-sisters."

"Why doesn't Ax get sick?"

"Maybe it's a disease from Munchkinland, and he has the same immunity I do."

"Wait, I'm Vinkan. Will I get sick?"

"I don't know. We don't even know what the disease is." Fiyero frowned. Something didn't add up, and it bothered him. The Witch looked up at him disapprovingly. "And you shouldn't have told me you were Vinkan. Not outright like that."

"It's okay," Fiyero said. "You're looking out for me. I can trust you."

"What, so you feel you're special? You're getting special treatment?"

"Technically, this healing business is special treatment. And you're not just looking out for me. You're looking out for the whole Court." The Witch paused, considering his statement.

"That I am," the Witch said. "We'll continue again after Court tomorrow. That long enough for you to fully enjoy your pain?"

"Yes, thank you," Fiyero said as the Witch got up. "Oh, wait!" She stopped, and Fiyero took a deep breath.

"I remember when I tried to give you the necklace, and how you reminded me that there are punishments for holding things back. So… I started saving to buy you something legitimately." The Witch just stood there, watching him warily, ready to run off at any moment. "But now, with the war and I know about Nessa, you don't need a necklace at all." Fiyero held out the bag to her. "It's my savings. I don't need it. It was going to be spent on you anyway, so it's no loss to me." The Witch took the bag, turning it over in her hands and feeling the weight of how long Fiyero had been saving.

"What makes you think I would have wanted a necklace?" she said, not looking at him.

"I don't think you've ever been given one before," Fiyero said. "And I was thinking that you'd be able to enchant it with something, like to see if people are telling you lies. The same way you made the chain that blocks smells for the Puss in Boots act." The Witch still didn't look up.

"That's actually a good idea," the Witch said quietly. "It… I…" She stopped, whatever she was going to say. Fiyero watched her closely, trying to find out what she was thinking, only to discover it was an impossible task. She looked up, her face controlled, and Fiyero knew that any personal feelings had been locked away. "I authorize you to select one item that will be suitable to serve such a purpose and hold it from pooling." Fiyero nodded, hiding his disappointment at the curt, authoritative answer.

"I understand," he said. "Thank you again." She turned, almost vanishing as she spoke.

"Don't mention it."

The war effort had already begun, and though it trailed Fiyero like a shadow, there were brief moments he forgot he was fighting for something. Avatar had been selected to be the Gale Force spy, as he could read, write, and pass physical inspection. So, with his hair freshly dyed a healthy Gillkinese blond, Avatar walked behind enemy lines under the name of Leán Stepson.

The dynamic of pooling was changed, since nobody was anticipating bonuses, but everyone had this air of unity to them. They were soldiers. They were going to bring down the Wizard, _the_ Wizard. They were one. Fiyero had a sense that it was the same bloodlust running in the men's veins now as it was when he had called for them to attack him. He wondered if they were deluding themselves; was there any way they could train these men to be efficient assassins, or would it come down to the moment of truth and they would realize that all the men were capable of was ruthless, discordant attack?

A few targets were set along one wall of the Court, almost like an archery range. It had been deemed that while pistols and guns would prove most effective, they were loud, hard to train with, and expensive in the sense of gunpowder and ammunition. The Witch had advocated the use of the Assassin's Crossbow, a miniature crossbow about the length of Fiyero's forearm that propelled six-inch bolts two inches into solid wood. Silent, small, and retrievable rounds made it ideal for training. Men were organized into shifts for training by zone. Fiyero practiced for an hour every other day.

The first letters from Avatar came through after a week, all addressed to his Auntie W, describing the details of being in the Gale Force from the perspective of an eager recruit. The number of times the shift changes in front of the Wizard's throne room. How many soldiers there were. Where the high-ranking officers stayed. He even managed to slip blueprints of the palace to the Court, encoding in a letter where they were hidden. The Witch assembled a war cabinet, consisting of two of her most senior pawn-runners, Shadow and the Judge, and surprisingly, Fiyero. He wondered if she had him in the cabinet just so she could keep a closer eye on him; maybe she suspected the money he had given her had been less than spotless. Either way, he brought something to the meetings; he could talk about politics with other aristocratic people, and see if they noticed anything strange happening, about the Animals, about the Wizard, or if anyone could notice crime rates rising as the Court desperately scrounged for funds.

At one meeting of the war cabinet, the Witch looked over the stolen plans of the palace, scanning entrances, marked guard pairs, and distances.

"It's still hard to believe that's the Wizard's throne room," Fiyero said, looking at the blueprint. "Less swankified on paper than it probably is in real life."

"It's directly adjourning to his quarters, and above the main ballroom," the Witch ignored his comment, scanning the designs. "The guards have one, two lodges, over there…" She found a letter from Avatar, reading over another passage. "'We spend most of our time in the bunks or in the practice field until sundown, unless we're on duty.'"

"What if we crippled the guards by locking them in their own lodges?" the Judge said. "There are four doors, send the quick-footed ones… Picker, Link... Um, Codex, Spider…" Fiyero looked down at the mention of the Quadling recruit. Fiyero himself had barely been here six months, and Spider even less. Was the boy ready for a war? A war against the Wizard?

"We're going to need to make sure this is a complete shutdown," Shadow said. "If we can kidnap the Wizard and a slew of his cabinet, that'd cripple the government. Even if the bastards are incompetent, if we can get them to support our Witch, then they'll help win the support of the rest of Oz."

"How do we get nobles?" the Judge said.

"Wait," Fiyero said. "The ballroom is right below the throne room… What if we waited until some ball and essentially took hostages within the palace? It'll save us moving a lot of people."

"That could work," the Witch said. "We're going to need to pick off guards, literally. One set dead without a sound, then move in a set, repeat."

"Do you think you could raise some sort of… shield… with magic to keep anyone attempting rescue out?" Fiyero asked. "Guards that weren't in the lodges, civilian militia."

"I think I could do it," the Witch said. "The locks for the guard lodges are going to have to be magical, too. Previously enchanted, though… The locks need to go on in a clock-tick and our men need to get out of there twice as fast." Shadow nodded.

"We'll go to a field outside the City," he said. "Set up replica distances and make our men run sprints until they can go so fast we blink and miss them." The Witch nodded.

"See to it. How are weapons going?"

"Every shop in the City knows to hold onto Assassin's Crossbows for us, along with any other silent, reusable weapons that come their way. Knives, throwing stars."

"Good, good. Adjourned," the Witch said, and the small group began to break up. Fiyero managed to make himself look busy, waiting for the other two to leave so he could speak to the Witch.

"What are you doing, Diamond?" the Witch said impatiently, but she seemed more tired than angry.

"I was just wondering…" Fiyero said. "What do we plan to do once the Wizard is dead?"

"I don't know," the Witch admitted. "All I know is he has to die. He has to pay for what he's doing to the Animals."

"You do know that you'd be the most likely candidate for ruler of Oz," Fiyero said hesitantly. "Even if you tried to step down, the Court would push for it, and you'd get followers in the public eventually." The Witch pinched between her eyes.

"You just had to bring up that, didn't you?" she said, this time much more impatiently.

"Sorry," Fiyero said shortly. "I'll just go…"

"No, wait," she said, and Fiyero stopped. "I… If that's the case… What's going to happen to the Court? What's going to happen to Shadow, the Judge, Ax, Switch, Mind and Matter, Spider, Picker, Thorn…" She continued, naming people Fiyero knew and those he didn't, proving that she knew every person in the Court. Every name added to her worry, and before long Fiyero felt the impulse to put his arms around her, an impulse that wasn't ignored. She seemed to freeze, but Fiyero didn't pay attention.

_Five years of leading a court full of unruly men, nursing a sick sister, and trying not to be caught is too much for any person to handle. _He gently tilted his head against hers. _She never had a childhood. She never had anyone who loved her._

"What are you doing?" she said, barely above a whisper.

"I don't want you to have to worry about that," Fiyero said. "I don't want you to worry. If you go off and become queen of Oz, I promise I'll take care of everything. I'll keep the Court alive. I'll keep everyone safe."

"I can't expect that of you."

"We can't expect it of _you_." The two just stood there, time freezing around them. He was amazed by how light and fragile she was; a lot of her bulk seemed to be her dress and cloak. He felt a small, wet stain begin to grow on his shirt, and realized she had begun to cry. "What is it?"

"I've never shared this before," she said.

"Your responsibilities?" Fiyero guessed. The Witch broke away, turning her face and walking to the other side of the room. He touched the tearstains on his shirt, and wondered when the Witch last cried. _More importantly, was it what I said that made her cry, or when I…_

"There's so much you have to do," the Witch said. "You have to stand on your own feet, and there's no turning back."

"I stood for myself the day I met you," Fiyero said. He had to make sure she knew he wouldn't abandon her. "Now, I'm… I'm going to tell you my name."

"No!" the Witch stumbled back another step, completely taken aback. "I can't tell you mine, I don't-"

"You don't have to," Fiyero said. "But I want to make sure that the Court survives if you become Queen. So I'll tell you my name so you can trust me. You don't have to say anything." She buried her face in her hands.

"Oz," was all she could say. "Sweet Oz…"

"It's okay," he said. "It's okay. You don't have to stress anymore. I'm here and I'm going to help you." She moved a little; it was a nod. "My name is Fiyero."

She finally stepped forward, placing her hands on his shoulders and looking him over. _She's getting used to me as something other than Diamond,_ he realized.

"Fiyero," she said, the tears beginning to clear. "Thank you… for your support."

"It would be nice if I could use something other than 'Witch'," Fiyero said. "Not your name, nowhere close. But something other than Witch." She just kept looking at him, and Fiyero wondered if she had even been paying attention.

"Fae," she said. "You may call me Fae." He smiled.

"Fae," he repeated back to her. "Thank you for trusting me."

* * *

Dr. Dillamond pressed his hooves against his head, trying to quell a headache. Honestly, students these days were so insensitive and unaware of the world around them, and they scoffed at every attempt he made to broaden their horizons. With a sigh, he began to sort through his mail, noticing a letter from a person with no return address. The postmark said it was from the Emerald City, but there was no indication of who it was. He opened the letter, reading the inside.

_Dear Dr. Dillamond,_

_I am a representative of a group in the Emerald City in support of Animal rights. We have recently intercepted information from a dignitary of the Wizard of Oz that confirms him as the direct cause of the Animal Banns, and that it is his intention to lock away all the Animals that continue to speak out. There was a list of approximately fifty of your comrades, and instructions on how to construct a torture device used for the silencing of Animals._

_The plans for the device have been destroyed, but my organization and I are not sure how long it will take for the Wizard to notice that you and the other Animals on that list are still free. I would strongly, __**strongly**__ suggest going into hiding until such time as it is safe. My organization and I intend to assassinate the Wizard, and until such time as he is dead, no Animal is safe. I am sending copies of this letter to the others on the list that we can track down, but I must urge you to warn other Animals, and then disappear. It is the only way to guarantee your safety._

_Please destroy this letter after reading, and do not attempt to discover its origins._

_Sincerely,_

_Elphaba Thropp _

A hastily scrawled PS had been added to what was now recognizable as a form letter.

_I have read several of your essays, and found them truly fascinating. I sincerely hope disaster will steer clear of your door._

By Oz. Dr. Dillamond dropped the letter, backing up. He looked around, trying to find any hint of someone watching him, friend or foe. Was the letter a prank? He had never heard of an 'Elphaba Thropp' before. What made her qualified to give him such desperate advice? Go into hiding? Stop speaking out? Even if it was just for the present, Dr. Dillamond was not one to be silenced. He wouldn't be surprised if it was a scheme to scare him off the faculty board.

The question that followed 'should he go' was, could he afford not to go? If the warning was genuine, then he was in grave danger if he stayed where he was. He thought of the hardships he faced, the fact he was the only Animal on the faculty at Shiz, how the others were mere groundskeepers if not lower. The Banns were growing more severe; how could the Wizard not take notice unless he was the one causing them? And it would explain how they were enforced so thoroughly. It wasn't just discrimination. It was systematic, authoritative persecution.

Taking a deep breath, he took up pen and paper, thinking to write to his colleagues who have been speaking out. If they had received similar letters, he would go.

_I just hope you know what you're asking of us, Miss-Elphaba-Thropp,_ Dr. Dillamond thought, dipping his pen in ink.


	10. Heaven and Hell

Life became nearly surreal. Fiyero found himself becoming a frequent visitor to the corn exchange, taking lessons from Fae on every single tactic she used to keep the Court under control.

"Every punishment must be reasonable, but still harsh enough to instill fear of breaking rules. New recruits are verbally harassed so that their egos deflate, and they're easier to insert into the whole. I can get away with taking five golds a day because I never flaunt it, and I never take bonuses. You must be imposing, but you can't be cruel. You need to learn how to disappear in a crowd; I always circle the Court at least once without being seen so I can hear men talking before I call for order. It's all right if they fear you, but it's better if they do things because they take pride in being a part of the Court and they're grateful for how secure their lifestyle is."

Fiyero, as a reward, managed to pepper her with small affections without angering her; holding her hand or smoothing out her hair. He was almost afraid to be too bold, waiting for her to dictate what he was allowed to do.

He finally came up with the necklace for her; it had a string-like pendant of small diamonds growing larger as the eye traveled from the gold chain to the end of the pendant. It was beautiful, if he did say so himself, but he could tell she thought it was beautiful, as well. He visited the exchange one day for the necklace to be tested.

"Okay," Fae said, clipping the necklace on. "Say something you know is true."

"I live in the Emerald City," Fiyero said. Fae nodded.

"Okay," she said, nodding. "Now say something you know is a lie."

"My hair is blue," Fiyero improvised. Fae smiled.

"It looks like black smoke comes out of your mouth," she said.

"Not pretty."

"Decidedly not," Fae touched the string of diamonds on the end. "I'm wondering if opinions work. Like if you say something you think is true, but someone else might not think so, will it come up as a lie?" Fiyero thought for a moment.

"Time flies when you're having fun," Fiyero said, thinking of many occasions in his childhood where time had seemed to pass faster when he was playing.

"No smoke," she said. "But that's a common phrase. What's something you believe, but others may dispute?"

Fiyero stopped. He wasn't particularly religious, so anything swearing that a deity was real would come up as a lie. She knew he was from the Vinkus, he had never met the royal family, or any other leader for that matter to form an opinion about them. And she was standing before him, waiting for him to say something and see if it was true._ Oh, Fae…_

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met," Fiyero said, feeling his courage sway as the words left his mouth, but there was nothing to do but keep going. "People would look at you and say 'oh, green skin, a lizard,' but your skin is skin. It doesn't matter what color it is. It doesn't make you anything less than who you are… and who you are is a goddess among men." Fae put her hand on top of the diamond pendant, continuing to stare at Fiyero. "Before you even turned eighteen, you began exerting control over some of the most life-hardened men in Oz, giving them a sense of morals and right and wrong, and keeping eighty people from starving, and helping eight hundred more with the money your men put in their pockets. And…" Fiyero stopped. His face was probably red as hell, and the look on Fae's face wasn't the most encouraging thing in the world. She was just looking at him, studying his face and picking him apart with her eyes.

"…I should just go," Fiyero turned, putting his hands over his eyes as he headed for the door. Why, _why_ did he have to go and spout all that?! He could have just told her he wasn't sure what to say, bought a few minutes, and come up with something sensible. It wouldn't have been that hard, and instead he just had to go and absolutely ruin any trust the Witch had developed for him.

"Fiyero," he heard her say. He turned slowly, preparing for the onslaught. "Do you really mean all of that?"

"Yes," he said. He would never lie to her, not even before she could see when people were lying.

"Every word?"

"Yes." She took a few slow steps forward, undoing the necklace and putting it around Fiyero's neck.

"I'm happy that you think that much of me," she said. "I never thought that much of myself. There may be people loyal to me, but I have never seen anyone willing to make sacrifices for my sake." She took his hand gently, threading her emerald fingers in between his.

"I didn't fully explain magic the first time," she said. "It happens when _my_ emotions are getting out of hand. When the men were attacking you, I was angry, and scared that they might actually cause you harm…" _Now I'm just making her self-conscious._ Fiyero leaned forward, placing a light kiss on her lips. Words fell away and ceased to hold meaning. The physical representation of what they felt, that kiss, meant more than anything they could have said to each other. When they broke, they just stood there, content to hold each other.

"You know," Fae said softly. "I've never been romantically involved with a man before. I can't say I'll be as good as I want to be."

"You don't have to be good," Fiyero said. "All that matters to me is that it's you."

"Oh, stop with the sentiment, or I'll kick you out," Fae warned.

Fiyero kissed her again. _But I think I'm in love with you._

Fae kissed him back. _Great minds think alike._

* * *

Fae still didn't tell him her real name, but Fiyero could completely understand that. If anyone knew the Witch's name, it was probably the person who named her, and he considered himself so lucky that Fae had let him get as far as he did that he was able to forget about the name. She even took off the diamond necklace when he was visiting; though it was a sentimental gift on his part, it showed that she was willing to believe what he told her. They both silently understood that any plans to have Fiyero 'inherit' the Court were completely dashed; if they ended up on opposite sides of the law, it would mean the woman he loved was in charge of putting him away in prison, maybe SouthStairs, with the lengthy criminal record he held. Still, they didn't try to stop, for once deciding to put something off and deal with it later. The open trust from Fae was still outstanding, and it made Fiyero feel as if he was walking on eggs. Really, really pretty eggs.

"Our mother had been a prostitute, just like Glinda," Fae had explained, divulging bits of her life story to Fiyero as he continued to visit. "Though it was a different dynamic. There was a man. I don't remember him that well, but he was cruel. He made the girls swear loyalty to him, tell him they loved him and give him free sex, and he controlled who hired them. Mother hid her pregnancies until it was too late to do anything, and the man allowed the girls to care for me, and then Nessa, thinking that we'd be born into service for him. Mother died after Nessa was born. I was supposed to join when I was ten, but I started stealing food and money so I didn't have to work for him to be supported. That's when I met the first thieves; some of them are still senior pawn-runners. I let Nessa ride out his care, establishing the Court, and by the time she was supposed to start working, I was able to support myself and her. I met Glinda with that man, and I let her take some of her friends to set up shop in the Court. It's also why I punish the men who abuse the whores. It's Glinda, yes, but it's my mother, too. And nobody should be beaten for trying to survive. Anyway, Nessa met Ax at Court, and about six months later she got sick, so she had to stay home in quarantine and kind of faded from memory."

"So that's four years of being sick?"

"Just about. It's not fun, but something is going right, and she's staying alive."

"What kind of doctors are you going to? Maybe if you held out for a little, you could send her to a really expensive doctor that could cure her outright."

"I don't trust them. I'm only going to doctors that make enough money that they aren't desperate, but not so much they're greedy. Otherwise they might tell me she's sick with something she's not for the sole purpose of taking my money. If she ever takes a turn for the worst, I'll go."

"You have a nest egg for that?"

"In a way…" She had gone to the cupboard, bringing out a small green bottle. "One of Mother's friends gave this to me when I was six. She said that my father had given it to my mother as a tip for her services, and it's what helped her pinpoint my father. She said that if the going ever got too tough to handle, I should go to the Emerald Palace and ask for the noble who recognized this bottle, and that he would be my father."

"Sounds kind of like a fairy tale."

"I thought so. But it's what I'm betting on if Nessa gets sicker. I mean, have you ever seen a green drink before? Probably some novelty of the upper class."

The weeks rolled by, and the Court was more and more prepared for its impending attack on the Palace. Fiyero dutifully complied with all the health regulations Fae urged, washing hands when he could, eating frequently, and doing basic stretches and sit ups. Nobody could afford to be sick on the big day, but Fiyero couldn't stop thinking about Nessa's mystery illness. It reminded him too much of the elders in the Vinkus who were given drugs as a reward for reaching a certain age, and, eerily, of the women he swindled jewelry out of.

_Was it possible Nessa has access to Mind Haze?_ Fiyero thought one night, the first night he had been allowed to stay at the corn exchange. He lay next to Fae on her thin bedroll, thinking of the third party in the room. It was a reasonable hypothesis; the weakness, the way she always managed to smile at Fae, the fact the 'illness' hadn't gotten more severe after four years, and how nobody who came in contact with Nessa got sick. Fae certainly wasn't sick. He certainly wasn't sick. Ax certainly wasn't sick.

_Sweet Oz, Ax!_

Ax has access to Mind Haze, if he was the one who laced the cologne. He certainly knew the value of slipping a pill to someone, and it would account for how he spent so much time with Glinda when he should be more faithful to Nessa. If he gave Nessa drugs, she wouldn't notice how often he was gone in her drugged state. And if Fae merely thought Nessa was sick…

_That heartless bastard!_ Fiyero let a single tear slip out of one eye, trying to loosen up so he wouldn't wake Fae. Nestling closer, he kissed her neck softly. _He's deceiving her. He's deceiving both of them. Keep Nessa drugged so he doesn't have to stay, but not telling Fae so that he stays in her favor._

It was a sleepless night for him, but he knew he had to get to the bottom of it. One day before Court, Fiyero approached Ax.

"Hey," Fiyero said. "Um… I've been feeling down. I mean, there's the war, and I haven't been sleeping well, and it's just wearing me out. I can't take it. And I know that you got the Mind Haze for the cologne that I use in my act…" Ax shook his head.

"You're the Puss in Boots," he said. "You're too valuable to the Court. I won't let you get your fingers into that shit."

"Please, Ax," Fiyero insisted. "It's a common practice back home. You get medicine if you feel sick in your mind the same way you do if you feel sick in your body. I just need something. Something to take the edge off." Ax glanced up at the throne, making sure Fae wasn't in it.

"Fine," he said. "Get here early tomorrow. I'll have something for you, but _I_ decide what you get. I don't care if it's not what you got at home, but I'm not seeing you go down the same road as the Count. You're a decent guy. The Count was a bastard." Fiyero nodded.

"Thanks, Ax," Fiyero said, feeling his heart sink. Ax had active access to drugs, maybe Mind Haze. His theory might be true. The next day, Fiyero arrived when Ax had asked him to, and received a small pouch of a strong-smelling dried green herb.

"You smell it," Ax said. "And it takes away the pain." Fiyero thanked Ax again, then threw the bag in the nearest sewer. Court was held as normal, the stages of attack on the palace were run over again, with a schedule of signals and times that the Court could do backwards in their sleep. Fiyero recited what he was a part of, but his mind was racing, filled with other thoughts. How was he going to tell her? He had to tell her. He just had to.

He approached the corn exchange, putting his left hand on the doorknob and saying the password, "Reasonability." The lock clicked, and he let himself in.

"Hey, Yero," Fae said, having taken to calling him 'Yero' as a shortening of his name. She gave him a kiss, but it seemed bittersweet to him. She didn't know what he was going to tell her.

"Fae," he said, swallowing. "I've been thinking."

"You tend to do that, don't you?" she teased.

"No, I'm serious. It's about Nessa." Instantly, Fae was more sober.

"What is it?" she asked. Fiyero took a deep breath.

"I don't think she's sick." Fae looked at him for a second, trying to decide if he was pulling her leg.

"Do you call _that_ fit as a fiddle?" she pointed to Nessa on her bedroll.

"No," Fiyero said. "But I don't think she's sick."

"Well, then, enlighten me as to what you think is wrong."

"I think she's been taking drugs."

"You think… _what_?"

"I think that someone has been giving her drugs, and that's what makes her look so sick." Fae fumbled with her pocket, pulling out the diamond pendant to see if he was lying. "Fae, you don't need that! I wouldn't say this lightly!"

"You don't care about Nessa!" Fae accused. "You're trying to get me away from her! You just want to fuck!"

"How does telling you your sister's a druggie get me closer to having sex with you? Tell me that!" Fiyero shouted.

"Look, I've told you, she's sick! She's been sick for-"

"Four _years_! How do you stay sick for four fucking years without dying?!"

"So you want her _dead_?! Is that it?! Get her out of the way?!"

"I don't want _anyone_ dead! I'm saying if it was a real disease, she _would_ be dead!"

"Maybe she's not dead because I've been seeing doctors!"

"I pieced it all together! Ax has access to drugs that would put her in that same state! I've seen it with the Vinkan elders, if you live to be eighty you get to live the rest of your life on drugs that do the same thing!"

"So run back home to your Winkie _teepees_!" Fae snarled. "And stop attacking my sister!"

"Half-sister! Most societies, half-siblings hate each other!"

"Just get the fuck out of here!" Fae screamed. "I never want to see you again! This is _exactly_ why I didn't tell you my name!"

"Really?" Fiyero folded his arms. "Because this is exactly why I told you mine!"

"Get out of my house! Get out of my life!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Fiyero slammed her door behind him, storming out into the street. What good did that do him?! Nothing! He tried to tell her the truth and she just shouted at him and sent him away!

_Forever..._

She never wanted to see him again. He struggled to keep going forward, to not collapse in the street and give in to the miserable realization that he had just blown everything to smithereens. South Street was impossibly far away, but with one dogged step after another, he made it to his door.

_The others are going to ask me about this,_ he thought, staring at the door sullenly. _Better… get it over with…_ Fiyero unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"Diamond! You're home early," Switch said.

"Before anyone asks," Fiyero said, forcing fake bravado into his voice. "I have fallen out of the Witch's favor. That's all you need to know."

"What happened?" Matter was up in an instant, by Fiyero's side. The brown-haired thief only earned himself a glare, and backed down.

* * *

There was no sleep. There was no work. There was no rest. And there were no tears, though they were there. It was a miracle he even bothered to go to Court at all. Surprising himself, he sought out Glinda. The two stared at each other for a moment, Glinda sitting on the platform with Fiyero standing in front of her.

"Can you make me forget?" he asked at last. "About everything. About the war, about my life, about how I got where I am today?"

"Absolutely," Glinda promised. Fiyero threw two gold coins at her feet.

"I'll find you after Court."


	11. The Clarity of Battle

It was three days until the attack on the palace. Fiyero hired Glinda three times between his breakup (if you could call the terrible fight that) with Fae and the present day, using as much money as he could spare each time and taking her word it was the best she'd ever given. It did succeed to make him forget, if just for a while, but the next day he was always left thinking, _That's not what it would have been like with Fae. She would have been different._ His patronage also seemed to make a semi-enemy of Ax, a welcome and unwelcome change at the same time.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Ax had confronted him.

"What _am_ I doing?" Fiyero had said.

"You're hiring Glinda! You've never hired the whores before!"

"Hate to break it to you, Ax," Fiyero said. "But Glinda isn't your girlfriend. Nessarose is." The mention of Nessa shut Ax up completely, but still left hostile tension between the two.

Behind Fiyero's back, the four other residents of the South Street dorm talked about Fiyero's 'fall from favor', but Fiyero preferred it that way. They would be filled in as best as possible, and then leave the subject alone. He didn't care what they guessed had happened, but he had caught Matter looking at him occasionally.

He perfected his menacing glare in this period.

Three days before the attack, the men were getting antsy. There was nervous talk, shifting of weight, and men brought forth private weapons to show off, betting how many Gale Forcers would die because of it. _She wouldn't want too many casualties, either,_ Fiyero thought. _It's the Wizard that needs to die, not his puppets._

Sundown had come, but was now starting to pass. The light from the skylight was beginning to fade. The hall gradually fell silent, and as the sun finally slipped completely behind the horizon, they finally realized what this meant; the Witch was not coming.

Fiyero and Ax's eyes met, and both knew the same thing. As the only two in the hall who knew where Fae lived, they would have to be the ones to track her down. Fiyero slipped out of the hall, into the street, and began sprinting toward the corn exchange as if his life depended on it. If something happened to Fae, nothing made life worth living. First to the door, the Vinkan thief put his left hand on the doorknob and said, "Reasonability!" Nothing happened. "Fuck! Reasonability, for Oz sake!" _Fuck, open up, Fae!_

"Move!" Ax shouted. Fiyero obliged, and Ax put his hand on the knob and said, "Melena!" The lock clicked, and Ax opened the door.

Fae was sitting on the floor, with Nessa writhing in her arms. Her entire body was shaking with sobs, and both girls' eyes were already red, with their clothes tear-stained. Reacting to the movement, Fae looked up, first noticing Ax.

"YOU!" she roared, barely taking time to set her sister down. "YOU WILL PAY!" Ax bolted immediately, leaving Fiyero alone in the doorway. He caught Fae as she tried to run past, taking her in his arms and trying to calm her down.

"Him…" she said, her voice choked with crying. "He was… You were right… Mind Haze… Four years of Mind Haze… From Ax…" Fiyero merely stood there, rubbing her back and softly shhing her and hoping the storm would subside. The idea of 'I told you so' never even crossed his mind; all that mattered that here was Fae, and she was in distress.

"I found the drugs," Fae whispered. "There was a lot, easily a week's worth. It's a week that _he_ doesn't have to deal with her… Just come in and do a chore or two…"

"He's terrible, isn't he?" Fiyero agreed with her. "Come on. You can punish him at Court."

"I'm not going." Fiyero didn't move, but she clearly felt his shock. "Do you really think I'm going to leave my baby sister alone when I just found out she's been doing drugs? She's going to go into withdrawal. I need to be there for her."

"What are we going to do?" Fiyero said. "The Wizard… we move in three days."

"You lead them. I know you can, I've been teaching you. You can do it. That son of a bitch Ax had better help you get control of them. Glinda will too. All you have to do is say Nessa's name, she and the other whores will follow you. It might not be much, but they have voices." Fiyero shut his eyes, not wanting to think about what she was asking him to do.

"I love you," was all he said. She shifted, bringing his face to hers for a pained kiss.

"I love you, too," she said, looking as if she was going to start crying again. "And my name is Elphaba."

"Elphaba," Fiyero repeated back to her, kissing her again. She took his hand, pressing the enchanted diamonds into his palm. They were thinking as one now; _Fiyero might need these._

"Now go. I believe in you." Fiyero nodded, not wanting to leave her again, but if she asked it of him, there was nothing for him to do but do it.

The door to the corn exchange shut behind him as he ran back to Court, an awful realization dawning on him.

_She told me her name because we might never see each other again. I might die filling her shoes._

There was no time to think about that. Only run.

The Court warehouse was buzzing when he arrived again. The shock of the missing Witch had subsided, and now everyone wanted to know, "What had happened?" Fiyero saw Ax was hiding in a corner, probably coming to terms with the fact that Elphaba–_Elphaba_, not the Witch, not Fae, but _Elphaba_–was going to end his sorry life right after they were done with the Wizard.

That still left Fiyero with the task of trying to do Elphaba's duties, and lead the men into battle. Trying to keep his legs from shaking, Fiyero climbed onto Elphaba's platform, surveying the men.

"Ord…" his voice cracked. He cleared his throat, and tried again. _Come on… Be strong…_ "Order! ORDER!" Slowly, the men started to quiet down.

"Where's the Witch?!" someone called out.

"She is unable to attend," Fiyero answered. "I am acting in her stead until she returns."

"Why you?!"

"You're not even a 'runner!"

"Where's the Witch?!"

"You've done something to her!" Mind, Matter, and Spider all joined Fiyero on the platform for support, but the odds were still unreasonably out of his favor.

"I haven't done anything!" Fiyero shouted.

"Then where is she?"

"What are we supposed to do?"

"Listen!" Ax moved into the center. "It's not his fault, okay?! It's not! It's mine!" The hall focused on him as he spoke. "I found a way to gain the Witch's trust, and I abused it. That's why I'm the youngest pawn-runner. And now she'll be out for… I don't know how long, but it's all because of me. And she's probably going to kill me. But I've got it coming. So shut the fuck up and listen to what Diamond tells you, and Oz spite it, do as he says!" _I'll put in a good word __for you,_ Fiyero thought. _Anybody could have stood up for me, but not everyone could admit to being wrong._

"Right!" Fiyero said. "Today will function as a normal day! Zone one, turn out!"

And zone one did. Fiyero stayed standing the whole time, standing just in front of Elphaba's throne, but never sitting in it. He was a regent, not a replacement. Pooling went smoothly, remarkably so, with Fiyero stepping down for a mere instant to give his share to Switch as opposed to Ax. Ax understood. The men were paid, and everybody looked to Fiyero for what to do next.

"Now, run though the attack!" Fiyero said. The men did so, announcing when they moved, when they struck, what they had to watch for. _I think we can pull this off without Elphaba,_ Fiyero thought. _We'll just have to work without magical backup and without the shield…_

* * *

_I am no Witch._

Fiyero stood over the silent men, the whole hall still without him even having to call for order. Crates with the crossbows they had been saving for and quivers of bolts lay open in the center, and the magnitude of what they were about to do was settling in. Taking in the insane pressure was almost too much for Fiyero, but he constantly reminded himself that the same pressure would have been on Elphaba's shoulders if he wasn't here acting in her stead. He wished he could go see her again, one last time before he went off to battle, but knew it was impossible. She only cared about her sister now, and Fiyero would have been an unwelcome intrusion.

"Zone one, arm," Fiyero said, his voice carrying without having to add volume. Zone one came forth from the crowd, each man taking a crossbow and a quiver. "Declare other weapons." One man had two sets of throwing stars; several others had small assassin's knives. Fiyero nodded, and zone one settled back into the shadows. When holding the ballroom, they would need every weapon they could muster. "Zone two, arm."

He worked through the zones, after zone six, calling the pawn-runners. He looked over the array of throwing weapons, knives, a short sword, one of Spider's fellow Quadlings had crafted a blow dart gun. Finally, the only one without a weapon was Fiyero. He stepped down from in front of Elphaba's throne, taking the only remaining weapon. Securing it against his chest with his arm, he looked over the men again. _For Oz… For the Animals… For Elphaba._

"Move out."

* * *

Though the Wizard didn't know it, he was surrounded. Even if he did know it, he didn't do anything about it, giving the men the extra boost of courage they needed. Fiyero's 'battalion' was heading in the main doors, consisting of sixteen men broken into two volleys. The plan was for volley one to fire, and volley two to fire on any missed guards as volley one reloaded. In the shadows surrounding the brightly lit palace, the first volley would seem to come out of nowhere. Fiyero couldn't help but think that if Avatar had been put on duty for the ball, he would be killed by friendly fire. The Court couldn't afford to wait and see if a green-coated guard was a friend or foe, and not everyone knew Avatar's face out of a lineup. _If you die tonight, you die a hero, my friend. _Fiyero thought as he surveyed the palace front. There was a brace of guards at the doors, two more doing patrols, and several other pairs identifiable along the walls of the palace.

A young man sprinted around the corner with death on his heels, tossing a rock in the general direction of Fiyero's batallion. The signal; the Gale Force was locked up and they didn't know it.

"Now!" Fiyero said. Volley one was already standing and taking aim; eight guards went down, injured or dead, Fiyero couldn't tell. He stood as a part of volley two, looking for other moving guards. He fired, and more guards were felled. He crouched down, reloading as Volley one surveyed the grounds, looking for other targets. All eight of them fired, but only four targets were left. The front was clear. The group moved in, a few stopping to retrieve a bolt or two for later, past the large front doors and into the palace hallways. A thief's eye could see that the palace provided more in one sweep than a whole week's work, but the attack man's gaze overlaid on top of it saw other things; exits, entrances, and the lack of guards on patrol in the hallways. That meant Avatar's letters was right; security was tightest around the front and, most likely, around the Wizard's throne room. _We're in for a fight,_ Fiyero thought.

They reached the doors of the ballroom, muffling music and laughter inside. _Well, that won't last._ The doors were shut, and the men looked to Fiyero for the order. He waited, looking down each hallway for the other groups. The forerunners of the other two groups appeared behind the corner, and Fiyero nodded for the doors to be opened.

The amount of upper class elegance in the room got under Fiyero's skin, despite spending every other day in a wealthy suit of clothes. Dresses were over-elaborate, suits were over-decorated, and it seemed to accentuate how filthy the Thieves' Court was and how crude their weapons were. Still, it only seemed to him the jewels and frills were just another type of filth. The type you don't get tired of looking at. The guests barely had time to gasp at the intrusion before Fiyero started shouting.

"DO NOT MOVE!" Men behind him picked off the on-duty guards in the room. "You are all now hostages! Sit beneath the tables and you will not be harmed!" There was another minute of fearful confusion as the guests shied away from the crossbows, never looking away from their capturers as they stumbled to obey the commands. Fiyero looked around the ballroom, recognizing the servant's door he wanted to use. Moving toward it, he realized he only had four or five men from his battalion following him.

"Come on!" He shouted. "The Wizard let us get this far! He can't stop us now!" The rest of the men came, and the statement seemed to add to the ball guests' fear.

The hallway was small and cramped, but Fiyero followed it until he found a small spiral staircase. He led the way up it, one floor and then out into another main hallway. Four guards were waiting at the Wizard's door, only to be killed by the Court crossbows. Opening the door, the men slipped inside, eyes adjusting to the darkness inside.

Quietly, they moved along, the walls, looking for any sign of the Wizard. There seemed to be no sign of him, and the room was deserted except for a large metal object at the end of the hall. Experimentally, a man shot a crossbow bolt at it. An explosion of sparks occurred, illuminating the object as a large metal head with a small crossbow bolt buried in its eye. Suddenly, the head jerked before lying still. Fiyero whipped around to see one of his men had found a curtained alcove and had touched one of the levers inside. _The head was a tik-tok,_ Fiyero thought. _Or something like a tik-tok._ The men continued searching, finally finding a small door hidden in the walls. They opened it, finding an elderly man in a long lab coat. He was trembling by now.

"Are you the Wizard?" someone asked him.

"He's the only one here, he has to be," another said. Fiyero pulled Elphaba's diamonds out of his pocket, stringing them around his neck and not even bothering with the clasp.

"Are you the Wizard?" Fiyero repeated.

"N-n-no," the man stammered, wisps of black smoke coming out of his mouth. A lie.

"It's him," Fiyero said. His men got to work, binding the Wizard around his ankles, knees, wrists, and chest. A gag was placed in his mouth, and a bag over his head. Two men lifted him over their shoulders, moving toward the exit.

"Halt!" Gale Forcers had come to the door, poking their long and threatening pikes inside.

"Change of plan!" Fiyero called, seeking around for another door. There, a door that opened into another staircase, heading up and down. Instinct told him to go up, but he ignored it, going down. He heard a few shots loosed, but mostly the men followed him rather than fight Gale Forcers. He went down one level, searching around and opening a door at the end of the hall. A side entrance, with a dead guard slumped outside of it.

"Give the Wizard to me," Fiyero said, giving his bolts to one of the men. "Go back to the ballroom and help fight there. When I come back, the Witch will be with me." He hoped bluffing wasn't a bad idea. He had no idea when Elphaba would come, but it was the morale booster the men needed. They passed off the Wizard into Fiyero's fireman lift, taking his weapons to use themselves, and disappeared back into the palace.

Fiyero started back to the Court Warehouse.

* * *

The Wizard stopped resisting soon after Fiyero left the palace gates, but he could still feel the old man shaking in terror as he navigated toward the Court warehouse. It gave him strange pleasure to feel the Wizard's fear. This battle was happening because of him; he had better be afraid. It also seemed to give credence to Elphaba's declaration that the Court had nothing to fear from the Wizard. Not once had the man case a spell, used magic, or induced any act or sorcery, planned or otherwise. _Good luck for us that 'Wizard' is just a title,_ Fiyero thought, opening one of the doors and slipping inside. He set the Wizard down on the corner of Elphaba's platform, pulling off the bag and removing the gag, wanting a better look at the man who had ruled Oz for almost twenty years.

His hair was thinning, an iron gray from age, and his face seemed frail and weak. His eyes were shut, and his mouth was moving frantically, as if swearing prayers and preparing to meet some god after his impending death. Fiyero wrinkled his brow in distaste at the man. _He's pitiful!_ The Wizard seemed to realize that he wasn't going to be killed immediately, and slowly opened his eyes.

"Where am I?" he asked Fiyero. Fiyero folded his arms.

"You are at the Court of Thieves," he said. "You await execution by our leader, the Witch." The Wizard's sun-deprived face paled a few shades.

"Where is the Gale Force?" he asked. "My guards?"

"Either locked in their barracks or fighting our men. We have ranged weapons; it should be an easy battle."

"What did I even _do_?" the Wizard cried, heading toward hysterical. "What did I do to deserve getting kidnapped and executed?!"

"What about the order you sent to lock up Animals until they can't speak anymore?" Fiyero said. "We intercepted that order and told the Animals to go into hiding so you wouldn't notice. You should have seen the Witch when she found out that was what you were doing."

"I needed an enemy," the Wizard pleaded. "My control was shaking, and if you blame someone else, the people follow you…

"The Witch did just fine teaching us to think like a community," Fiyero said. "We may have feared you, but you weren't the enemy. We may have feared the Witch, but she was in charge because she cared for us." The Wizard looked away from Fiyero, his breath beginning to grow shallow and pained.

"The ropes," he gasped. "Too tight… untie me… tight…" Fiyero slapped him across the face.

"You can't have a conversation with me and then realize the ropes are too tight," Fiyero told him. "I'm not stupid, like you."

"Worth a shot," the Wizard muttered, his eyes smarting as his cheek began to turn red. "Why are you still standing there if I'm tied up and this Witch is the one to kill me?"

"That's none of your business."

"I insist. I didn't even know there was a Witch in the Emerald City. No wanted posters, no public notices…" Fiyero smirked.

"She doesn't like big, flashy tricks."

"Then what do you call the public siege on my palace?"

"Necessary."

"Touché." The Wizard swallowed, trying to force more bravado into his speech. "Why don't _you_ kill me if you're just standing there?"

"Symbolic. The Witch is going to take your throne once you're dead."

"Oh, now she's my successor. Now you have to tell me about her."

"I don't have to tell you anything."

"Then I'll guess. Um… If she has a strike force like the one you captured me with, I'll guess she's… Thirty, thirty-five?" Fiyero couldn't resist blowing the man's mind.

"She's eighteen."

"_What_?"

"Our beloved Witch turns nineteen this winter. She's eighteen."

"Eighteen years old and a little girlie is commanding a force of men stronger than the Gale Force?!" Fiyero shrugged.

"She figured out politics a long time ago," Fiyero said. "If you can give someone something they want, they'll do as you ask." The Wizard blinked.

"That's what I try to do," he said. Fiyero became more guarded, not liking the idea Elphaba and her enemy, the Wizard, agreed in an area of politics. "See, the Ozian people are followers by nature."

"Excuse me?" Fiyero raised one eyebrow. "Where do you come from, then?"

"I'm a Kansas man."

"A _what_ man?"

"My point. I'm not from Oz. Though I've never found an Ozian who would consider outright warfare against me. The Animals speak out, but the people are generally followers."

"Are you saying El- the Witch's father may be… not Ozian?" Fiyero asked, starting to feel confused. What was Kansas? What about the people there was different than Ozians?

"Why, what about her father?"

"We have no clue who her father is. Her mother was an Ozian prostitute, that we know." The Wizard seemed to freeze.

"A prostitute?" he repeated. "Did… Can you tell me more about her?"

"Um…" Fiyero racked his brains. He didn't know that much about Elphaba's mother, and what he did know was patchy. "She worked for a man who sold her off… She's dead…"

"Was her name Melena?" the Wizard asked.

"I've heard that name before…" Fiyero said, trailing off. It was the password to Elphaba's home last that he saw her. It would make sense that would be something she chose; there was no way he could guess it out of a dictionary, and she had never outright told him her mother's name. "Did you hire a woman named Melena?"

"A long time ago, while I could still walk in the streets and not be recognized," the Wizard said. "Um… Almost twenty years now. I found a man who offered her to me, and she was so beautiful… I paid the man, but I shared some of the miracle elixir with her."

"What elixir?" Fiyero said, feeling his heart speed up and stomach drop.

"There's a bottle in my pocket," the Wizard said. "The left one." Fiyero opened the coat pocket, bringing out a strange green bottle, identical to the one Elphaba had showed him months ago.

"You're her father," Fiyero breathed. "You're her father! She has a bottle just like this, it's from her mother!" It all made sense. The green skin and the ease at which she could convince people to do things. What else was a result of her blended parentage? _Oh, shit. Shit…_

"Fiyero, move aside, I want to get this over with," Fiyero whipped around to see Elphaba striding forward, holding a double-shot pistol in her right hand. She seemed tired but determined, like a vengeful ghost as she approached her lover and the hostage. The Wizard stared at her, his mouth moving frantically, but the words were caught in his throat. Elphaba lifted the gun.

"No! Fae, no!" Fiyero ran to her, trying to get the gun away. The first shot rang out, the bullet flying harmlessly into the rafters.

"Damnit, Fiyero!" Elphaba brought the gun hilt down on the crook of his neck, stunning a moment. "We've been planning this for months, and if he doesn't die, everyone who has died in his name will have died in vain!" Fiyero blinked hard, trying to master the pain as Elphaba closed the distance between her and the Wizard, pressing the gun barrel against his forehead and grasping his hair to keep him from struggling.

"Elphaba, no! He's-"

She pulled the trigger again. The Wizard stiffened, and she let go. His body fell aside with a sickening thunk. Elphaba tossed the pistol on top of the corpse, turning to Fiyero. He could see how ragged she had been running; he wondered if she had slept at all over the past three days.

"How did you get that?" Elphaba noticed the green bottle in Fiyero's hands. Their eyes met, him destroyed with having to tell her himself.

"It was his," he said. "He is… The Wizard was your father."


	12. Cloaked Dangers

Elphaba stared at him, trying to comprehend his statement. He found himself continuing to talk, explaining the best he knew everything he had learned over the last few minutes of the Wizard's life.

"He hired a prostitute named Melena, spring almost twenty years ago. He gave her green drink as a tip since he was supposed to pay the man that offered her to him. He says he's not from Oz, and he never met an Ozian bold enough to attack him." Fiyero could almost see the exact words Elphaba was thinking. _"I just shot my father."_ Fiyero set down the bottle, taking her in his arms as tears began to slide down her face.

"I j-just destined to d-destroy things I c-c-care about, aren't I?!" she cried into his shoulder. "Nessa w-wouldn't have found M-Mind Haze if not for the C-Court… Ozians w-wouldn't be d-d-dying f-for him if I hadn't flown off th-the handle…" Her knees crumpled, and rather than trying to force her upright, Fiyero sat down on the ground next to her, letting her nestle in his arms.

"You didn't know," Fiyero said. "He didn't know, I didn't know until we pieced it together… The only person who could have known was your mother."

"It's my _father_," Elphaba clutched at Fiyero. "My own _father_…"

"I got you," he said. "It's going to be okay. You're already ten times the ruler he was. You won't have to do things alone anymore. We'll all help you."

"Don't hate me," Elphaba begged him. "Please don't hate me."

"I will never hate you. I love you so much."

They sat there in silence for a long time, thinking of what had been lost. A life, the chance for a family, and a ruler, however tyrannical, were all claimed by the small, round bullet. Fiyero wondered if the hellish end to the Wizard's life, shot by his own daughter, took away from some of the punishment he would meet in hell. Elphaba's tears ran out, but she stayed weak and sad in Fiyero's arms. After another stretch of time, she stirred.

"Put a bandage on him," she said, moving to tear the strip of cloth from the hem of her dress.

"I got it," Fiyero said, letting her rest against the platform and using his shirtsleeves as bandages. The heart had stopped beating, so there was very little blood around the hole, but what was there was starting to congeal into a disgusting black jelly. Closing the Wizard's glassy eyes, he noticed for the first time they were the same color as Elphaba's living ones. He couldn't help but be curious as to how similar they would have found the two if the Wizard had lived for just another hour.

The bandage firmly tied, Fiyero turned back to Elphaba, only to find she had taken off her black cape. She held it out to Fiyero, and he knew what she wanted. Taking the cloak, he spread it over the Wizard's body, covering his corpse.

"Will you return to the fight?" Elphaba asked him.

"It should be finishing," Fiyero said. "I… I told the men you would be coming to help." The fact she had left the corn exchange at all meant that Nessa was at least stable. Elphaba nodded.

"I think I will," Elphaba said. "I want to heal the wounded. Both sides." It was Fiyero's turn to nod; he couldn't have expected any less of Elphaba. He picked her up, setting her down on her feet again.

"How is Nessa?" Fiyero asked.

"She's better," Elphaba said. "Still weak, but the effects are starting to go away. She's asleep now."

"I can go get her while you heal the men." Fiyero said. "Are you sure you're strong enough to heal them?"

"The Wizard's bound to have something that helped him give the illusion of magic," Elphaba said. "Some tools or magical objects. I'll find something." Fiyero nodded again, wrapping his arm around her.

They parted ways at the palace, Fiyero to her sister and Elphaba to her destiny.

* * *

Morrible sat quietly under the table, waiting for the drama to play out so she could assess the enemy. It was far more useful to keep her head down in such a situation; though she was a powerful sorceress in her own respect, Morrible knew that what powers she had could never compare with what the people thought the Wizard had. Any act of magic from her would be attributed to the Wizard, and if her rescue attempt failed, she would be shot with one of their primitive crossbows, which was not her definition of a good way to die. Idiots died in battle. Masterminds died in their beds.

The fight had been intensely one-sided; with the Gale Forcer's short-range weapons, the terrorist crossbows picked them off with disgusting ease. It wasn't until the Gale Forcers finally found a few guns that they managed a few hits against the rebel forces. One man had been killed outright by the first wave, and several others found bullets in their bodies, crippling the ranks. Still, the rebels won out in the end, and in the calm of the storm the men moved to examine the casualties; there were two dead (_two_, against the Wizard's elite Gale Force, _two_!) consisting of a blond Munchkinlander and a black-haired man whose ethnicity Morrible couldn't guess. The terrorists set up a small guard, two per entrance and five to guard the nobles, and the rest paid their respects to their dead and tried to ease the suffering of their wounded. The black-haired one had another man holding him, almost lovingly, making Morrible want to spit. Watching the fighting, Morrible knew that the Gale Force casualties would be through the roof comparatively. These terrorists had a lot to answer for.

More or less half an hour later, Morrible wasn't sure how long it was, a girl came through the open double doors of the ballroom. She was dressed completely in black, with a tall conical hat adorning her head. Green hands hung by her side, and her green face surveyed the seated nobles. The men reacted to her entrance as puppies would react to seeing their mother again; those who could move quickly surrounded her, seeking some solace in her presence. Quiet words were exchanged, not for secrecy but for the lack of necessity to raise her voice. _She can't be older than twenty,_ Morrible thought. _She can't be the leader. An envoy, a messenger, maybe. _The pack cleared, a company of about ten of them leaving the ballroom as the girl continued progress toward the nobles.

"Who knows where the Wizard kept his books of spells and magical equipment?" the girl asked. Morrible noted the past tense, 'kept'. Bad news. "At least speak if you don't."

Choruses of 'no' went through the guests, along with shabby explanations as to why they didn't. Morrible joined them, wanting to keep the Grimmerie secret from this messenger girl. She turned to where Morrible was sitting, drawing closer and asking her neighbors directly if they knew. "No… no… no…" Finally, the girl reached Morrible.

"Do you know?" she asked.

"No," Morrible told her. The girl snapped her fingers at the terrorists, and a group of five of them came.

"This one knows," she said, fingering at a chain around her neck. "Bring me anything he has pertaining to healing." Morrible blinked. How had she known? "Please do as I ask. I intend to heal the wounded." Still slightly confused, Morrible stood, leading her escort of terrorists to the Wizard's throne room. Still pondering the girl's control over the men and her exhausted formalities, Morrible removed the Grimmerie from its hiding place in the Wizard's secret room.

"That it?" a man asked, gesturing at the book.

"It is an ancient volume of the most powerful magic known to man," Morrible sneered. "If anyone without magical powers handles it, they die." A lie, yes, but it gave her a wider berth on the way back to the throne room.

The wounded had all been lined up, and Morrible noticed how many green-coated Gale Forcers had been added to the row. A pair of terrorists were bringing in an officer with a bolt in his shoulder. _She intends to heal the enemy, too?_ Morrible thought. _Somebody needs to teach this child some politics._ Morrible flipped through the pages carefully, seeking the one spell she absolutely knew was a healing spell.

"Now, this language has been dead for centuries," Morrible said, showing the book to the girl. She placed her green hands underneath it, peering at the spindly writing curiously. "This is one that the Wizard and I have translated, it starts-"

"Thank you," the girl said, trying to lift the book out of Morrible's grasp.

"No, I'm not sure you understand how difficult the spell is," Morrible said, trying to hold onto the book.

"I said, _thank you_," the girl said, gaining a sharp glint in her eyes. "I have no more need for your assistance." Morrible let the book go, her face becoming hard and scornful. _Impudent little street rat!_ Morrible thought, taking a few steps back. She'd just watch the girl fail, then she would ask for Morrible's help. She'd make the girl heal the Gale Force first, though.

"Thorn?" the girl sat beside one of the terrorists with a bullet in his leg. "I'm going to try and get the bullet out. It's going to hurt."

"'Scuse me, Witch, but it hurts now," the man said, managing a breathy laugh. The girl smiled.

"Good man," she said, taking up a pair of hair needles that Morrible recognized as the same set another lady had been wearing in her hair earlier that night. Maneuvering the needles, the girl managed to pull out the bullet, which another man picked up and took the needles from her as she turned to the Grimmerie. Morrible cringed, fearing the girl would get blood on the ancient book, but instead her eyes widened as the girl began chanting. Morrible recognized the correct, if not perfect, pronunciation and the power her voice brought to the spell, as if she were singing a song with her soul instead of her voice. Slowly, the wound closed, and finally became unbroken skin. The man flexed his leg, before sitting up on his knees and moving as if to kiss the girl's cheek, but instead whispered something in her ear. The girl smiled.

"That was a bit much," she said. "But don't worry; you'll learn mine soon." The man smiled, his face ablaze with loyalty. She stood, bringing the Grimmerie with her, and attended to a Gale Forcer with a knife in his side further down the row. Morrible realized that the man she had healed had been first not because of which side he was on; she risked one of her own men in something going wrong with the spell rather than someone she didn't know, and was now healing the ones with the most severe wounds. Continuing to watch, Morrible picked up everything she could about the girl. Her dogged determination, how tired she looked, and how the men that she healed began to mingle with each other, regardless of loyalty. First it was by ethnicity, but slowly the groups blended and there was no distinction between Gale Forcer and terrorist.

With the last man healed, the girl stood, surrounded again by her followers, old and new. She gave them a new set of orders, and then left the hall with a Gale Forcer and the terrorist she had healed first. Another terrorist turned to the terrified guests of the ball.

"You are to remain in the palace and report back here in eighteen hours time. No messages to the press. Find a guest room here if you are not already staying in one, but do not miss the deadline or there will be consequences." Orders finished, the Gale Forcers stepped forward to help escort guests that were staying at the palace back to their rooms. Morrible looked after the girl, no longer doubting that she was their leader.

_Well played, dearie, _Morrible thought. _But I will win in the end._

* * *

Finished with the healing, Elphaba was barely more than a walking corpse to the room she had asked for. _"Any room will do. If it has a bed, it'll do. Just as close to where we are now as possible." _The man to her left was Thorn, or as he should be called, Thorrin. She hadn't expected him to tell her his name after being healed. Perhaps it was a big deal to him. To her right was a Gale Forcer with a long hole in his shirt where Elphaba had removed the crossbow bolt and healed his arm. She proudly noted how the healings were holding up well; nothing but the men's bloodied clothing suggested that they had ever been hurt.

"I had never heard of a Witch in the Emerald City," the Gale Forcer said, almost hesitantly. "But if I had, and I knew that someday you'd save me a whole lot of pain, maybe even my life… I wouldn't have hunted you." Light-headedly, Elphaba gave him a smile.

"The sentiment means the world to me, sir," she said. She took another step and her ankle rolled, Thorrin catching her.

"Witch, when was the last time you slept?" Thorrin asked, correctly identifying Elphaba's fatigue. The Gale Forcer was less educated in sorcery.

"Did the healing tire you out that much?" he asked.

"No," Elphaba said. "Magic is no effort when you have the right words like that. Sleep… I slept… I think about twelve hours? Over the last three days, a few hours a night. I'm not sure."

"No wonder you couldn't lead us!" Thorrin exclaimed, taking more of Elphaba's weight onto himself. Her toes were barely skimming the floor at this point.

"Who did lead you, if she didn't?" the Gale Forcer's question was directed at Thorrin.

"Diamond did," Thorrin said. At the Gale Forcer's questioning look, _"Who names a child Diamond?"_ Thorrin explained, "None of us know each other's names. Unless we're practically married, and then we trade names rather than expensive rings."

"Clever," the Gale Forcer said, raising his eyebrows. "And to think I'm scrounging to come up with a ring for my sweetheart."

"She's a lucky lady…" Elphaba said blearily, sleep catching up with her now that she didn't have the effort of moving to keep her awake.

"Fae!" The trio turned as Fiyero made his way down the hallway, taking Elphaba in his arms bridal-style. She kissed his cheek.

"Is she…?" she said, the warm sensations of being in his arms and being off of her feet giving sleep the edge it needed to claim her. Fiyero nodded.

"She is." Her head fell into the crook of his neck, one hand resting on his chest as she fell asleep at long last.

"She was tired," the Gale Forcer noticed. Fiyero merely nodded, continuing to walk with the now-sleeping Elphaba in his arms. Thorrin looked at him, pointing a secret finger to Elphaba and mouthing 'Fae' with a disbelieving expression on his face. Fiyero shook his head, and Thorrin understood; a nickname. The same finger pointed to his head, and back at Elphaba. 'Do you know her name?', and Fiyero nodded. Thorrin looked straight ahead, taking in the fact that he had been acting under orders of, essentially, the Witch's life partner.

"Here we are," the Gale Forcer said. "It's a little musty, it hasn't been aired out in a month or so, and the pillows are starting to deflate-"

"Fuck, there's more than one pillow?!" Thorrin cut across the Gale Forcer, grinning slightly to reassure him there were no hard feelings. "She probably sleeps on something about the thickness of the carpet." The Court man gestured for his companion to leave the room, motioning he would explain why Fiyero would be left alone. The Vinkan thief didn't even realize a silent conversation was going on behind him, focusing only on Elphaba's face as sleep smoothed out her worries and cares. _She's superhuman,_ Fiyero thought, shifting her so he could use one hand to pull back the sheets. _She has more strength than granite, and it's all wiped away when she takes a moment to rest._ It was almost enough to make him want to continue kissing her, but the urge had to be resisted. She was sleep-deprived, to the point of sleep-starved, and keeping her awake with such a selfish wish would be… well, there was no other word. Selfish, and inconsiderate.

He set her down on the bed, marveling and how deep she sank into it before coming to a rest. He pressed a hand down on the mattress, feeling it give way, then stiffen as he reached its deepest point. _Damn_, he thought. _I had no idea this much fluff existed._ Leaving the bed alone, he moved to her feet, gently untying, loosening, and pulling off her boots and sliding her feet under the downy comforter before flipping the rest of the blanket over her. She looked like a small shoot of grass lost in a snow bank as the comforter comes up to her chin and the pillow cushions her head. Fiyero removed his own shoes, sliding into bed on her other side, spooning against her.

_This is nice…_ he thought. _I could get used to this._

It was his intention to stay awake and listen to her calm, even breathing for a while, letting the serenity of her sleep guide him in the next decisions he faced; what would be done about the Court, what the next step in his relationship with her was, what should be done with any resentful advisors and nobles. But the best of intentions often go astray.

Not quite as fast as his lover, he fell asleep beside her, buried sweetly in her raven hair.


	13. Clearing the Aftermath

Nessa woke up aware of every joint in her body. She could feel where her knuckles connected to her hand, her knees turned into her legs, and every bone in her back, from her hips to the back of her head, and they were all hurting. She kept her eyes closed, trying to ignore the throbbing joints and failing. She guessed that it should feel like this. Mind Haze had taken away a lot of the pain, but at the same time, she had lost herself and became a shell.

_So it all depends on what is more important to you,_ Nessa thought. _Your body or your mind._

Her mouth was dry, and she could only make small, choked sounds when she called for someone. She lay there for a few more minutes, becoming more aware of her surroundings, and still without opening her eyes. Wherever she was, she wasn't at the corn exchange, home. Diamond had come, and she could remember being carried, but she wasn't sure where she had been taken. At that point, she hadn't really cared. It hurt a lot more then than it did now, which she was grateful for.

She felt a cloth wipe across her face, and she tried to make a sound at it. The cloth went away, and someone took her hand above the sheets.

"Miss Nessa," a man's voice said gently. "Tap once if you're awake."

With great effort, Nessa managed to tap the man's hand. He set it down, and Nessa struggled to open her eyes. The light stung, but she could make out the figure of a man in a clean white coat. A doctor. He turned to Nessa and gently placed a finger on her chin, then squeezed a wet cloth so that the droplets of water fell into her mouth. Coating her mouth, Nessa almost felt conversation draw closer to her like a physical thing.

"Where…" she managed.

"Where are you?" the doctor filled in.

"Yeah," Nessa said. It would have been more painful to nod.

"The Emerald Palace," the doctor said. "You were brought here by a rebel, who told me you were their leader's sister…" He trailed off, and Nessa rested her eyes against the glare. "She goes by the name of 'the Witch', I hear. I was wondering… if you knew her name. There are rumors flitting about, but I… I'd like to know for sure." The doctor offered her more water, which she obligingly took before speaking again, this time managing a sentence.

"Names are important in our world," Nessa said softly. "I don't know if she'd want me to tell." The doctor, while disappointed, didn't press the issue.

"Well, I suppose I'll find out soon enough, if she's going to be the new ruler."

"What?" The doctor soaked the cloth again, giving Nessa more water.

"The Wizard is gone. Nobody's sure where he is, but all of the rebels understand that he's not coming back. This new Witch is going to rule Oz, and some of the older nobles have already started calling her a princess, almost like the Ozmas." Nessa licked her lips as the cloth ran out of water.

"Her dad was a noble," Nessa said. "We have a bottle of green stuff, from her dad."

"How did she end up living in the slums if her father was a noble?" the doctor asked in confusion.

"Different dads. Mom wasn't noble." The doctor wasn't sure what to make of that, but he let it pass.

"What hurts the most?" Nessa exhaled, trying to laugh.

"Everything," Nessa said. "But… at the joints." The doctor picked up her hand again, feeling for tendons. The pain relieved a little when he pressed down.

"You are dangerously underweight," the doctor said. "It comes from hunger suppression, a part of ditterrum. That's what Mind Haze is made from. A side effect of withdrawal is sometimes joint pain." Slipping her hand back under the covers, the doctor stood up. Nessa was struck by the sensation of hair beside her wrist. It must have been her own hair, but when did it get so long? "Our first goal is going to be to get you eating. Then we'll see about movement. This isn't going to be a quick recovery, Miss Nessa."

A tear slid from Nessa's eye. The pain had to go away, and soon... "I don't care how long this takes." Nessa forced the words out. She listened to the doctor's footsteps as he left, and tried to sink to sleep behind her eyelids, but she found no dreams; only memories.

_"Nessa, turn around, I want to see if he hit you."_

_"Fabala, I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."_

_"Everything's going to be okay, Nessa. I've set up the first dormitory for the thieves, and they've agreed to start a reserve fund. Look, right there, he hit you. Stand still, I'm going to make it better."_

_"Fabala, please. I'm so worried for you out there…"_

_"Nessie, listen to me. Never, ever worry about me. I'll be fine. Worry about you. I don't want to see anything bad happen to you. Life is tough down here, and if I can find a way to get you out of here, Oz knows I'm going to do it. You'll have a good life, Nessa. I promise."_

She had betrayed her sister when she began Mind Haze. Elphaba's promise of a good life would only work if Nessa agreed to be healthy enough to live it, and she had thrown it away. Another tear followed the first. She could remember Elphaba caring for her, carefully paying attention to the waves of heat and cold and helping her sister appropriately, drying sweat and bundling her up as necessary. She would have died if Elphaba hadn't been there for her, either from withdrawal or continued use.

_I've already destroyed my body,_ Nessa said to herself. _And as much as it hurts, I'm going to stop destroying my mind, no matter what._

* * *

Fiyero woke much later, dying sunlight streaming through the window rather than the light of stars. Fiyero sat up and stretched, noticing how Elphaba had rolled over to face him in her sleep. _She did that the first night, too._ Fiyero scooted away from her, not wanting to interrupt her sleep, and sat up to stretch. Wow, if that was how good it felt to be in a royal bed, it's good to be king. Smirking at the thought of Queen Elphaba in her oversized queen's bed, Fiyero rolled out and put his shoes back on, poking his head out into the hallway. There was a Gale Forcer, different from the one that had showed Elphaba to her room, along with Shadow.

"What time is it?" Fiyero asked.

"Six," Shadow said. "There should be a clock in that room. The Witch needs to meet with the Wizard's nobles and cabinet in two hours." Fiyero nodded, looking to the Gale Forcer. He had cleaned himself up a little, but there was a tear in the front of his shirt and a few dark stains around it. _Another heal-ee_.

"Oh… Diamond?" Shadow spoke up. Fiyero looked to him. "There were two dead from the Court. One of them… One of them was Mind." Fiyero froze.

"Mind… Mind is dead?" Shadow nodded solemnly.

"The first bullet found him," Shadow said. "It was before we were expecting the Gale Force to use guns." Fiyero swallowed. Mind was dead.

"Who else?" he asked, throat becoming dry.

"Mace. From zone five, I don't think you knew him." _Mind was dead._

"Thank you," Fiyero said, disappearing into the room again. What had he thanked Shadow for? For telling him that a friend was dead? For letting him know that he would never see Mind again? Oh, Mind… Level-headed, sensible, kindly Mind. Why did Mind have to be one of the two who died for the cause?

Somebody had to be. If it had been anyone else, the same pain would occur, just not with Fiyero. Someone else would be sitting here, grieving the loss of a friend. Looking to Elphaba, still asleep, Fiyero realized that his pain must be nothing compared to the loss Matter had to be feeling at this moment. He knew that his life would be over if something happened to Elphaba. Desperate for something to do, he found a comb and started smoothing out the ends of her hair, careful not to tug. Matter without Mind. What would that mean? If he knew from experience, life was terrible away from the one you loved. What would Matter be like if he knew Mind could never come back, and that there would be no reunion after their separation? Fiyero wondered if Matter would consider suicide. It would be cruel to the rest of them, but not as cruel as keeping Mind and Matter apart. Fiyero didn't want to think about one without the other.

Time passed slowly, but it continued to pass. Fiyero made all of the arrangements for Elphaba to get ready, partly as a favor but mostly to keep his mind off of the death of his friend. He promised himself to find Matter later. The grieving thief might not want to see anyone, but Fiyero remembered how alone he had felt. Matter must be worse beyond compare.

When the clock showed seven-thirty, Fiyero woke Elphaba up.

"Elphaba," he said softly. "You wanted to meet with the nobles at eight. You've got half an hour."

"Can they come to me?" she suggested, seeming to shrink back into the bed. Fiyero smiled.

"No, they can't. They're terrified." Elphaba rolled over, her eyes peeking over the top of the blanket. "Okay, that face never scared a fly, but getting them to come see it is another story." Elphaba rolled onto her back, wriggling to get her body moving again.

"Your boots are near the middle of the bed on the floor," Fiyero said. "There's face stuff set out on the dresser, once I get hot water there, and I combed most of the knots out of your hair."

"You've been busy," Elphaba noticed as Fiyero went into the bathroom to retrieve aforementioned hot water. "How long have you been awake?"

"An hour or so," Fiyero said. "So I decided to let you sleep."

"Well, thank you," Elphaba sat up, and Fiyero heard her back crack several times. He winced.

"That sounded like it hurt," he said.

"It did, but it feels fantastic now," she said, sliding her feet into her boots and beginning to lace them up. Fiyero filled the pitcher with hot water, and brought it out to the dresser. Elphaba was already working out snags near her scalp where Fiyero couldn't reach, and was pleasantly surprised the rest of it had come smooth. Fiyero poured water, beginning to soak the washcloth.

"What is it you want to talk to the nobles about?" Fiyero asked.

"I'm asking them who will be loyal to me," Elphaba said. "And with the diamonds I can just leave it at that." Reminded of Elphaba's necklace, Fiyero checked his pocket for the chain, finding it wasn't there.

"Elphaba," he said, panic rising. "I think I-" He looked up, only to see her holding the chain out in front of him, the diamonds resting serenely in the center.

"You're not the only one who can make great lifts," Elphaba said, fastening the diamonds around her neck. Fiyero kissed her, wondering if she will ever stop amazing him.

* * *

Morrible was waiting to be interrogated. She did not like being interrogated. It meant someone else thought she might be wrong, and when people thought she was wrong, they didn't listen to her as much as others would. Nobles were being called one at a time to go and meet with 'the Witch'. They would be asked questions about their loyalty, and then let go if they were found loyal. It still bothered Morrible how the girl could tell that she knew the location of some magical cache she thought the Wizard had. If this girl had powers that strong, it was all the more important Morrible get a hold of her quickly. It was never longer than a minute or so that a person spent with the new Witch, and she was going through the people rather quickly. What was it the girl wanted to know that was so small that she could ask a few questions to each person, or so long that she had to ask it of everyone?

"You," a man said, pointing from Morrible to the servant's hallway. Morrible was disgusted to find that the doorway was guarded by a Gale Forcer. _Where do your loyalties lie, moron?_ she thought as she stepped through the door. The Witch was standing alone, looking at Morrible.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Madame Morrible," Morrible replied, quickly adopting the persona of a sweet grandmother.

"What office did you hold with the Wizard?"

"I am the press secretary and temporary magic vizier. He was looking for a more qualified sorcerer." The girl fiddled with a strand of diamonds at her neck. _That's a pretty thing for a poor girl like her,_ Morrible thought, coupling the shining gems with her tattered black dress.

"Why did you lie when you said you didn't know where his spell book was kept?"

"I didn't want to call attention to myself."

"Any other reason?"

"The book was very old. I was afraid for its safe keeping."

"Were you loyal to the Wizard?"

"Yes." The girl wrapped her fingers around the diamond strand, wiggling it absently.

"Would you be loyal to me?"

"Yes."

"Do you mean me harm?"

"No." The girl paused for a moment.

"How long had you been working for the Wizard?"

"I was a part of the Ozma Regent's court when he arrived. I've been a loyal supporter since the beginning."

"Do you recall the Wizard sneaking out to walk the streets?"

"Yes, but he had to stop because people started to recognize him. If he was recognizable, he lost some of his mysteriousity."

"Do you recognize this?" the girl produced a small green bottle. Morrible squinted at it.

"Yes," she said. "Where did you get that?"

"My mother gave it to me," the girl said. "It means I am the Wizard's daughter." Morrible stared at the girl, trying to find something like the Wizard in her green appearance. _The eyes are similar… And being a child of both worlds would explain her powers._ "Do you believe me?"

"Of course," Morrible dipped her head, showing respect to the girl's position over her. "We will have to make arrangements for you at once. Where are you staying? We can have you moved into the Wizard's suite within-"

"No," the girl said. "I need the people of Oz to understand that the Wizard is dead and that I am the new ruler. Then we can worry about where I'm staying."

"The Wizard is dead?" Morrible repeated. That had been unexpected.

"Are you sad?" the girl asked. Morrible blinked, wondering exactly what she thought of the Wizard's death so not as to offend his daughter.

"Well… It's unexpected, and surely a shock, but I can't say he was the best ruler," Morrible took the ambiguous road. The girl nodded.

"That is all. You may go." she said. Morrible looked at her.

"Now, are you sure you can trust us while asking such short, unproven questions?" Morrible asked her. The girl patted Morrible on the arm.

"I can always tell when people are lying," she said, full of trust. Morrible felt her skin prickle, knowing that she had lied to the girl at a few points in the 'interview'. "But I know that you will always tell me the truth." Morrible smiled, proud that she had managed to deceive the girl.

"I can tell we'll form a great team, Princess…" Morrible waited for her name. The girl quirked her head.

"Princess. I'm going to have to get used to being called that," she said, dodging Morrible's questioning inflection. "You may go." Rather than annoy her new superior, Morrible left down the hallway.

_I may not be making much progress,_ Morrible thought._ But at least I know that I am an exception to the girl's knack for the truth. She'll never know it's coming._

* * *

It was taking Fiyero longer than he had expected to find Matter. He kept getting different stories about where he was, and when he finally heard that Matter was in a place Fiyero knew of, the Vinkan thief got lost on the way there, and when he finally found it, Matter had gone. Still, Fiyero never gave up searching. Trying to find Matter kept him from thinking about the death of Mind, something he still hadn't come to terms with yet, but a small plan had formed in his head. Matter would definitely not be detached from his lover's death, and would help Fiyero fully realize that his friend was gone. At the same time, Matter would need a friend's comforting, something that would help Fiyero move on.

_Maybe this is what Elphaba did her whole life,_ Fiyero thought. _Take her emotions, lock them up, and find a way to deal with them rather than truly feel them._ It was hard, but this was no time to have a breakdown. Matter needed someone collected to talk to.

They bumped in the hallway. Matter was wearing the beaten leather coat and a pair of pants, but had no shoes, socks, or shirt. He hugged the abused leather to him tightly, as if fearing it would dissolve into thin air if he didn't hold onto it. His hair was knotted and starting to look greasy, so unlike the silky brown waves Matter usually kept it in. Salt stains ran down his cheeks, fresh trails mixing with dusty, drying paths. He was unwilling to wipe his red, puffy eyes.

"Matter," Fiyero said, and the brown-haired thief looked up at him. "Matter, I… Sweet Oz…" What was he supposed to say to make up for the death of a person dearer to you than life?

"Diamond, what would you do if I killed you?" Matter asked as calmly as if asking, 'may I have the time?' Fiyero's first instinct was to look over Matter for a kind of weapon, but he found nothing. Matter was speaking hypothetically.

"Um… I'd be dead," Fiyero said. "If you killed me. Would you do it cleverly?"

"Probably not," Matter said.

"Then you'd probably go to jail, too." Matter considered this silently, and the two fell into step, walking down the hallway to some undecided destination.

"What about the Witch?" Matter said after a minute.

"What? No, leave her out of-"

"What would the Witch do if I killed you?"

"Matter, you aren't really going to kill-"

"What punishment did the Court have for murder?"

"Stop it, Matter! Just stop!"

"What would _you_ do if I killed the Witch?!" Matter shouted, his bloodshot eyes gaining a demented glint. The mental image, Matter standing over Elphaba, soaked in her blood, made Fiyero's heart race with fear.

_Matter would do it, too… He wouldn't have done it before, but he'd do it now…_ Fiyero shook himself. He would have to trust in Elphaba's ability to defend herself, but Matter kept talking.

"You couldn't blame me, could you? Her war effort killed him. She's the reason he's dead."

"He died for something greater," Fiyero said. "He died for the freedom of the innocent."

"Mind was innocent. Or at least innocent of the crime the Wizard was persecuting the Animals for."

"Mind died pure. He died because he cared."

"_I_ cared. For _him_." Matter was slowing down, and his hands were starting to shake. Fiyero looked around, noticing a balcony, and led Matter onto it. Sitting down against the wall, he let Matter lean against him, hoping his friend wouldn't be offended with a hug. They both knew Fiyero was straight, and could never fill the gap Mind had left.

"I've never felt so angry," Matter said, tears streaming down his face again. "I've never felt like I could kill someone, but now, I know I could."

"Do you want to tell me?" Matter buried his face in Fiyero's shoulder, tightening the hug. Fiyero was taller than Mind, and Mind had a lither build. The Vinkan was struck by how awkward it must feel for Matter to put his arms around a man who wasn't Mind.

"My parents kicked me out of the house, for being who I am," Matter said. "And I went to the City, and I found Mind at the Court. And he had told me he was gay…" Matter's throat sealed, and he had to wait for it to clear again. "He was the reason I stayed with the Court. I never liked stealing, but I did what I had to, and the Court kept me trapped. But he was there, so I didn't care."

"Maybe that's what you need," Fiyero said. "The Court is going to fall apart. We're rebels now, not thieves. Once everything settles down, get out of the trap. And live the life Mind would have wanted for you."

"I… don't want a life without him," Matter whispered. "It'll never be complete."

"He'll never be gone, Matter," Fiyero said. "He's given you something, and altered the path of your life. You've been changed, because you knew him. And he'll never leave you if you never forget him."

They sat in silence for a little while longer, looking over the City rooftops. Fiyero managed to pick out the block with South Street's 'dorm', and knew roughly where the entrance would be.

"Diamond?" Matter asked after a long time. "Do you believe in talking to the dead? Like ghosts can visit you from the Other Realm?"

"Um…" Fiyero had never really considered it. "Well, I don't think there's anything that really prevents ghosts from coming back, but the whole thing sounds too much like a ghost story." Matter closed his eyes.

"I want to try and find a way to talk to him," Matter said. "Even if… there isn't a way to talk to the dead, I'll be doing something rather than throwing my life away."

"Can you…" The question died as Fiyero remembered that Matter was illiterate. Mind had tried to teach him several times, but Matter always grew more interested in his teacher than his lessons, and never got far. "Never mind." There was a few more minutes of silence.

"Look," Matter said. "It's almost sunset. Time for Court."

"Matter…" Fiyero began, but his friend stood up, steadying himself on the wall.

"It's fine," Matter said. "Spider's been covering my guard shifts, but he should get some rest. Besides, I know I'll see Mind again."

Fiyero wasn't sure if he should remind Matter that talking to ghosts was only a myth. That it might not actually be possible, that there might be no reward for chasing a rainbow. Nobody knew the rules about returning from the Other Realm. Could the ghost talk? Could it even be seen? Would it be stuck on the wrong side forever if it tried to visit a loved one?

But then Matter smiled. A small, toothless smirk, full of hope and purpose.

Fiyero decided to stay quiet.


	14. Delicate Dance of Power

"Anyone to watch out for?"

"Morrible."

"Just her?"

"She was the only one who lied to my face. She can't be trusted."

"So what are we going to do?"

"…Fill her pretty little head with stories."

* * *

"People of Oz!" Morrible's voice rang out over the crowds of people gathered in the Emerald City square. "Great changes have been happening in our lands!" Elphaba shifted behind her. She wasn't used to being quite this clean, or a dress different than her own. That one tattered black dress had seen her through years of leading the Court, and now, as she stood in the dark green-blue dress with a halter neck (now concealing her enchanted diamonds) that Morrible had borrowed from another lady and had pinned to fit Elphaba, there was one word for how she felt: uncomfortable. The woman had been slightly put off, until Morrible explained Elphaba's status as daughter to their Wizard. After that, people were much kinder to Elphaba, understanding that she was going to rule them and had a say in what happened to them. This moment, Elphaba stood listening to Morrible's speech; the speech that should secure her position as ruler of Oz.

"Two days ago, the Palace was captured by a group of rebels. They had discoverated the Wizard as the force behind the Animal Banns and disappearances, and as true patriots, fought for a better Oz. They were led by a young woman of fantastic talents in politics and sorcery. Understanding this young woman would be a much better ruler of Oz than himself; the Wizard stepped down and allowed this woman to take his throne!" The crowd buzzed a little, but stayed silent.

"Before he left, the Wizard identified this woman as his daughter. As a blend of blood from the Wizard's world and our own, she has the compassion to the Ozian people with the strength of her father, the wonderful Wizard! Her green skin is but an outward manifestorium of her magical and benevolent nature! People of Oz, I am honored to introduce Princess Elphaba!" Elphaba stepped forward, waving to the crowds, relieved that she was being so well accepted. There had been a few lies in Morrible's speech, but they were more hyperextensions of the truth. The Wizard had stepped down in allowing himself to be killed. He left this world when he died. The truth had been stretched a bit too far, but it was still grounded in fact.

"My people," Elphaba said, taking the slight liberty of making the people her own. "This will no doubt be a time of turmoil, which I will make every effort to make it smooth as possible. As we speak, invitations have been sent for me to meet personally with the leaders of the providences with the purpose of coming to complete understanding of where Oz is and what changes need to be made to make our great Oz like a piece of the Other Land!" Greater cheers met her statement.

_The Wizard and I may have agreed that if you give people what they want, they follow you,_ Elphaba thought as Morrible joined her, bringing a graceful end to the speech-giving. _But he served to give the people what they wanted, and create and enemy to keep it all together. I'm giving them something _to _want that they may not have specifically wanted before, keeping them working toward a common goal._ Morrible ushered Elphaba off of the balcony, one arm around her like a mother figure.

"You were excellent, dearie," Morrible said. Elphaba nodded, staying on guard.

"I don't want to disappear," she told her press secretary earnestly, glancing behind her at the balcony. "I want to be seen in public for the rest of my life. I want people to know that I'm here and I'm working for them."

"That won't be a problem," Morrible said, placating. Elphaba wondered if she was just saying that; the diamonds weren't incriminating her.

"_Princess_ Elphie!" a shrill voice cried. Morrible looked up, surprised, but Elphaba knew exactly the source of such exclamation. Glinda stood at the end of the hallway, still looking like Elphaba remembered her, her jaw dropped in an adorably elongated 'O', her baby blue eyes sparkling. The two moved toward each other, Glinda running full barrel and Elphaba stumbling awkwardly, afraid she would rip a borrowed dress. Glinda ran into her friend, hugging her forcefully, before pulling back and examining Elphaba's attire.

"Look at you!" she exclaimed, proceeding to whack Elphaba on the arm. "Look! At! You!"

"Yes, we're looking at me! What are we looking for?" Elphaba laughed, hugging Glinda again. "I missed you."

Morrible coughed delicately, drawing Elphaba and Glinda's attention.

"Oh, Glinda, this is Madame Morrible, my press secretary, and Madame, this is one of my friends from the City, Glinda." Glinda shifted her weight, waving her fingers at Morrible.

"Hiya," she said. Morrible nodded formally.

Elphaba had long thought of an average female figure, which she did not hold herself to, as a person who wore a lot of flashy jewelry, large amounts of makeup, and dresses that went down to their upper thigh or higher. This was also the first time she managed to compare one of her Court 'ladies' with a true-bred lady of her father's court. Glinda bounced constantly, making her hair fluff, her glass-and-crystal gems sparkle, and most importantly, attractive parts of her anatomy jiggle. Morrible held herself still, with the most movement being moving her feet to walk or her mouth to talk.

"Can I see your room, Elphie?" Glinda asked, latching onto Elphaba's arm.

"Absolutely," Elphaba said, turning to Morrible. "Madame, I'm ready for the next laws the Wizard passed. I'll read them as soon as I get them."

"Elphie, are you going to _read_ while I'm visiting?!" Glinda seemed ready to throw a fit.

"Well, I don't think we'll be very talkative while you're taking a shower…" Elphaba trailed off. Glinda shut up at the mention of such a luxury. Morrible, holding herself even tighter as if to contrast herself to the free-moving prostitute, bowed her head to Elphaba.

"I'll have the documents sent up immediately," she said, leaving to go do as Elphaba asked. Elphaba was systematically reading through all the laws her late father had passed, making notes on their purpose, if they were a good idea or a bad one, and ways they could be improved. She was actually quite surprised at the amount of good that came from the Wizard trying to make Oz a little bit more like 'Kansas'. Trade had flourished as he revised commerce laws, and he was responsible for the public libraries that Elphaba had derived her schooling from. It wasn't much, but having expected all manner of cruel and prejudicial laws, Elphaba was pleased.

"What is that stuffed sack of flour's _problem_? And her _hair_, yeech!" Glinda shuddered. Elphaba took her friend's arm, leading her to her rooms.

"She's actually untrustworthy," Elphaba whispered in her friend's ear. "But she's well connected, so we're deceiving the deceiver until she can be disposed of." Glinda looked up at Elphaba in awe.

"That is a wicked thing to do, Elphie, but I can't say I'll be crying at her funeral." Smiling, Elphaba continued down the halls until she found her apartments. _I don't think I'll ever get used to this, as much as I'd like to_, Elphaba thought, opening the door. Glinda gasped at the splendor spread out before her. The first room didn't even have a bed in it; it consisted of a large desk, several bookcases, two sofas set up for entertaining, and a fireplace.

"You _are _a princess!" Glinda cried in delight, sitting down on one of the couches, then bringing her feet up and lying down on it fully, pointing her toes and stretching her arms above her head and letting the cushions support her completely. Elphaba smiled.

"What, so if we put a random bastard from the streets in a fancy room, he's a princess?" Elphaba asked, leaning against a wall as she watched her friend's antics.

"Well, of _course_ HE'S not a princess, duh," Glinda said, crossing her ankles why lying down. "He'd be a _prince_. And princesses don't cuss."

"Hell."

"Elphie…"

"Shit."

"_Elphie_!"

"Fuck."

"Elphaba, you have thoroughly convinced me that you are not a princess!" Glinda bounced up from the couch, taking an empty silver ashtray off of the desk and placing it upside down on her head like a crown. "That means these are my rooms now."

"What? Glinda, what makes you the princess?"

"Because I know how to act like one." Glinda put her feet together daintily, spreading her arms wide and taking small steps, addressing an imaginary crowd. "Good evening to you all! Welcome to the grand gala thrown by your very own Princess Glinda!" Casually, Elphaba knocked the ashtray off of Glinda's head, and it fell down on the blonde's foot. "Oww!"

"Sorry, Glin," Elphaba said, replacing the ashtray on the desk. "I guess I'll just have to be the princess, now that you've lost all your toes."

"Princesses don't have to walk if they don't want to," Glinda said, nursing her foot. "I'll get by on just- "There was a knock at the door, and Elphaba opened it.

"The documents you asked for," a young Gale Forcer offered a stack of papers to Elphaba. She took them, nodding to the officer.

"Thank you," she said, putting the papers down on her desk in some obscure yet systematic order. Glinda and the Gale Forcer caught eyes, the officer giving her a shy, embarrassed smile. Glinda merely smirked and waved, and the man shut the door.

"Elphie, can I really take a shower in your palace?" Glinda asked.

"With water hot enough to burn you," Elphaba said. "And I'm going to have you taught to read." Glinda stared at her friend, not surprised or excited or awed, but she just stared. "The whole Court. Anyone who can't read already will be taught. I'm not about to abandon you all to your own devices now that I'm the one responsible for catching lawbreakers. I don't want to have to lock my friends up." A tear rolled down Glinda's cheek.

"Anyone could be a princess," she said quietly. "But only you could be Princess Elphaba of Oz, daughter of the Wonderful Wizard of Oz while still being my best friend Elphie." The two embraced again, only to be interrupted by another knock. The door cracked open to check, then swung fully open.

"Princess?" the Gale Forcer asked. "There's an unscheduled visitor for you. An Animal, who says he has a letter from you." Elphaba raised her eyebrows.

"Gotta go, Glin," Elphaba said. "You can shower while I'm gone." Glinda's eyes lit up as she bolted through the next door.

"Yuthgratethasomu!" her words, combined with her high pitch, ran together into a meaningless, indecipherable word. Elphaba turned back to the guard, and realized that her comment had to have been the oddest thing he had ever heard.

"_You_ will escort me to the visitor," Elphaba said. "And if you enter this room without me in it..." Elphaba, for lack of an appropriate threat, merely smiled. "Why, I'm not entirely sure what might happen to you."

Swallowing, the Forcer stepped aside and allowed Elphaba into the hallway, keeping one step behind her as she began her walk to the entrance hall.

Elphaba was finding that walking suited her, especially when it came to being Princess of Oz. Walking meant you had somewhere to go, and people were less bothered with formalities. It kept her blood moving, kept her feet from falling painfully asleep in her chair, and helped keep her mind clear. Matters of living arrangements for the Court, sending the nobles home, dining, palace staff, and much more had all been handled as Elphaba walked purposefully through the halls of the Emerald Palace. And now, she was thinking over the Animals she had sent letters to back at Court, and which one had managed to maintain connections that would bring him to the Emerald City and inside the gates of the palace.

Forcer security had also been reworked while Elphaba had been walking, rearranging from a concentrated core around the Wizard's room to an even, though slightly weaker, bubble that protected the entire palace.

"I swear to you, this letter is genuine!" she heard a voice insisting as she approached the Great Hall. "It was sent to me before any of this 'princess' hullabaloo started!" She drew closer, recognizing the Animal as a Goat. Two Gale Forcers were blocking his way, shaking their heads and telling him he couldn't pass. She drew closer, and one of the guards noticed her, forcibly taking the letter from the Goat's hooves and thrusting it to Elphaba.

"He claims this is from you, Princess," he said. Elphaba glanced at the letter, only looking long enough to identify the Goat as Dr. Dillamond. She caught a glimpse of the post-signature, recognizing the praise she had given the Goat when meeting him would have been a small, scholarly fantasy.

"It is," Elphaba said, stepping past the guards and offering her hand. "Dr. Dillamond, it is an honor to finally meet you." The Goat offered his hoof in the same gesture.

"The honor is mine, Miss-Princess Elphaba," he said, tacking on the 'Miss' as a reminder of a time when she was merely Miss Elphaba. "I must say, it was quite alarming to receive such a letter without knowing its origins."

"Did you heed its warning?"

"I cross-checked with a few of my colleagues, and with the post-signature that was absent in their letters, I knew that you truly cared for our safety. I actually didn't hide too far away, merely masquerading as a dumb goat whenever trouble arrived."

"A clever ruse, taking advantage of the narrow-minded thinking if an Animal doesn't talk, it's an animal."

"I must ask, where did you find my essays? The books I published in have become rarer as of late. I thought several of them existed only in my personal collection."

"I rescued it from a library workroom, on its way to the garbage," Elphaba said. Intelligent, polite conversation was refreshing. Nobody was simpering, nobody was over-honoring the other, but they were two equals comparing notes on the location of rare essays. "In 

a collection of essays about certain views and their counter-arguments. It was one of the only book I could find that contained anything in support of Animal rights."

"Princess Elphaba," Elphaba turned to see Morrible striding toward her. "Are you finished with Miss Glinda? I have urgent matters to discuss with you."

"Well, I was speaking to Dr. Dillamond; he was one of the Animals that avoided capture when the Wizard called for caging." Morrible glanced at the Goat, acknowledging him, but still focused on Elphaba. The gesture of serving the princess seemed to go deeper than Elphaba's social standing.

"I assure you, Princess, this is a matter of great importance," Morrible stressed.

There was a brief second of silence as Elphaba considered her options. Of course, it would be nice to slap Morrible in the face and stay with Dr. Dillamond, an esteemed intellectual she had been wanting to meet the day she found that book with his essays. Defying that liar, Morrible, even her name conjured awful images, _Morrible_, would be the sweetest, if short-lived, victory of all. But that was exactly it; the victory would be short-lived. Elphaba would have all the time in Oz to speak to Dr. Dillamond as soon as Madame Morrible was out of the way. The Princess came to her decision.

"I thank you for making the effort to come here, Doctor," Elphaba turned her back to Morrible, giving Dr. Dillamond a silent look that assured him with a conviction that was near-religious that they _would _be in contact. Dr. Dillamond nodded, seeing shadows of a strong-willed revolutionary in the primly dressed princess.

"And I thank you for making time for me," he said, before turning to leave again. Elphaba turned to Morrible, who produced a newspaper. Elphaba could still feel the heat of the printing press under her fingers; an extra copy, mostly featuring her speech.

"The general populous is beginning to develop their opinion of you," Morrible said, showing an editorial to Elphaba. It wasn't a prominent page article, but in large enough letters, the title asked, _Wizard or Witch?_ with a subtitle of _If it's all the same, which do you pick?_

"They're describing you as a radical thinker, shaking Oz at its roots," Morrible summarized.

"Radical is a bit harsh," Elphaba said, only mildly concerned. "I prefer to describe myself as 'liberal'."

"Princess, it doesn't matter how you describe yourself, what matters is what they say about you."

"We can call Glinda a virgin all we want, but that doesn't make it true. We can call you a liar, but that will never be true." Elphaba threw Morrible a bone. "And we can call me the worst thing that ever happened to Oz, and that won't make it true."

"Though public opinion dictates public appeal," Morrible said, apparently unfazed. "If the people think you are good, even if you make mistakes, then they will follow you."

"What are you suggesting?"

"The reforms you mentioned are a shock to the population," Morrible said. "If I could suggest delaying your plans until you are settled as queen-"

"Madame, we can't spend another clock-tick going down the path my father has set us on!" Elphaba told her, adding a childish urgency to her voice. "The reforms must begin immediately! As soon as possible, before I get too old!"

"Dearie, you are eighteen!" Morrible said, placing her hands on Elphaba's shoulders. Both fought the urge to shudder. "You will still be young when you are nineteen! Twenty at the latest, reforms will begin then, I absolutely assure you." The invisible smoke in the air was so strong Elphaba was afraid she might choke on it. Morrible had no intention of Oz being reformed.

"All right," Elphaba said, not looking at Morrible. She was outside her room again. "But I still want to mention reforms to the dignitaries at the state dinner, so they know what's coming and they don't fall into a false sense of security." _Like the one you're falling into._ Morrible nodded.

"Very good," she said. "I thank you for taking my advice, Princess." Elphaba forced a smile, before entering the room. Glinda was sitting in the desk's chair, her hair in a towel and wearing a soft white robe.

"Look!" she stood up, and the cottony robe piled around her toes. "It's too long for me!"

"That's because it's for me," Elphaba said, peering over her friend's head to accentuate the difference in height. Glinda put her hands on her hips.

"You're not being fair," she pouted. Elphaba smirked.

"So what are you going to do about it?" Glinda stuck her chin forward in determination.

"Put my heels back on." Elphaba shook her head as Glinda produced her beat-up pair of strappy, 'sexy' stiletto heels. "Or better yet, I'll put on _your_ heels!"

"I don't have any heels," Elphaba said, raising the long skirt of the dress. Underneath the gown, she was wearing her black laced boots. Glinda gasped at the sight.

"How can you go about being a princess with no princess-y shoes?" Glinda asked, scandalized.

"That's not the half of it," Elphaba said. "This is another lady's dress. I don't get my clothes until… I think it's two days before the dinner."

"Dinner? What dinner?" Glinda crinkled her brow.

"The state dinner. The leaders of the providences are coming to talk about politics with me." Glinda's eyes widened.

"Elphie, please let me help you dress for that," Glinda said. "Please, please, please."

"It's dinner. It's not that big of a deal."

"But you're a _princess_!" Glinda squealed. "You need to look pretty! When's the dinner?"

"About a week from today, unless travel gets screwed up. Then it'd be later"

"I promise, promise you that I will be able to write my entire alphabet in order by the big day. If. You let. Me help. You dress."

"And be able to write your name," Elphaba said.

"Elphie, that's asking too much!"

"I'll give you the letters, but you have to write them." Glinda considered the offer, then accepted.

"I'll take it. Oh, you have good hairbrushes and everything, don't you?"

"I saw a hairbrush somewhere…"

"Elphie, you must know where everything is at all times!"

"Really? I thought I should worry about public affairs and the national economy. Stuff like that."

"Oh, Elphie, Elphie, Elphie," Glinda said, opening the door and going into Elphaba's bedroom. "I am going to work my ass off until I can qualify to be your lady in waiting person thing, and then you have to hire me, because you can trust me. You don't want enemies sending… spy-ladies-in-waiting in and them putting poisoned needles in your bed."

"How are you supposed to protect me from poisoned needles?" Elphaba followed her friend into her bedroom. Glinda was already lying down on top of the sheets, apparently getting a head start on that whole 'checking for poisoned needles' concept.

"I lie in the bed first," Glinda smiled, folding her arms. "Duh."

"I can think of… four things wrong with that right now," Elphaba said, choosing a chair beside the bed.

"I don't believe you. What are they?"

"One, if there are needles, you'd die. Two, there's no way to know if you'd get all the needles. Three, a loyal lady-in-waiting won't stop disloyal servants from being hired." Elphaba was about to continue, when she flushed a little and turned away.

"That's three. You said you had four," Glinda noticed, sitting up.

"No, I guess you're right, I only had three," Elphaba said, trying to smile. Glinda, in turn, frowned.

"Elphie, you know better than to try and fool me like that," Glinda said. "You did have a fourth one, I know it. Now what was it?" There was a long silence, and Glinda knew not to pressure her friend.

"Fiyero hired you," Elphaba said at last. "He hired you after I kicked him out. Why did he do that?" Glinda looked down, making a small cradle with her hands.

"The girls and I, or all of us, really, we play a game. We found out that men always show you what they want from you at the exact moment they hand you the money. You can see it on their face, and it helps us know what to… do… later. We laugh, complain, compare those faces once we're all back home. But I had never seen a face like Diamond's the first day he hired me.

"First off, there was the pain. He was hurting, and hurting bad. And guilt. He felt guilty, and he was angry, but only at himself. And… that's when I realized what people look like when they're lovesick. And he had never looked like that before, even early on, when the rumors were running around he liked you. He was hopeful, and he could still smile, but he couldn't smile when he hired me. You remember when you and I talked about why he was gone?"

Elphaba nodded.

"You looked almost the same way. But instead of guilt, you were betrayed. You told me about what he had said, and I sat there and I thought, 'Diamond was right.' He was right, but I couldn't do anything. Because you didn't need me to say he was right. You needed me to tell you he was an asshole, just like every other guy in Oz. He wouldn't have said something like that if he didn't care for you. If there's anything I know you hate, it's being tricked. And he knew that too."

Elphaba looked down, still not quite convinced. Glinda continued, making one last point.

"All I ever wanted in life is a happily ever after. Back at the Court, all that meant was that I didn't have to sell sex. Now, things have changed. And if all I have to give up to get my happy ending is a guy who was never mine to being with, then I'll take it. He's yours, Elphie," Glinda put her arms around Elphaba, giving her a tight hug. "And he always will be. Everything's going to go right from now on."

"I hope so," Elphaba said. "I really hope so."


	15. The Proviences of Oz

Fiyero stood near one of the doors, a newly 'reissued' rifle in his hand, watching Elphaba as she picked her way through the sea of politics spread out before her; tribal leaders from Quadling Country, the Governor of Munchkinland and his ten-year-old son, the four aristocratic dignitaries that made up the Gillkinese High Council, and the Crown Prince of the Vinkus. Having never met his prince before, Fiyero took special interest in the man, as much as the other guards were watching the representatives of their home provinces. The Prince was a towering man of about twenty-five or twenty-six, with skin a few shades darker than Fiyero's own and decorated with the traditional blue diamond markings of the crown prince and ruling monarch that Fiyero had derived his thief's name from. He wore little decoration, consisting of a gold circlet around chocolate brown hair, with amber eyes and a kind of noble slope to his face; his brow hung over his eyes, his nose was smoothly angled down, and his chin barely jutted out enough to be a chin. All in all, it was a handsome effect the man wore well with his immense height.

Glinda had worked wonders with Elphaba's appearance for the state dinner. Keeping in mind the ideals her friend held, Glinda had found a solid-colored, cap-sleeved silk gown with fine craftsmanship, but no overzealous embroidery or decoration. The gown itself was pale pink, a color he had thought Elphaba would not be caught dead in, but the soft pastel made the green skin seem more like a welcoming glow than an intimidating glare. Rather than wearing a crown or tiara, Glinda had curled and arranged Elphaba's hair to serve the same purpose of identifying her as a regal, royal princess. Fiyero had to say, she was stunning, and her enchanted diamonds seemed inconspicuous if not elegant with her attire.

"Good evening, all of you," Elphaba said, shaking every person's hand in turn and inquiring as to their journeys to the City. The Quadlings seemed to be silently sizing her up in her capability as ruler, the Gillkinese aristocrats were overly polite and gushing, with a secret glint for gossip in their eyes, the Governor's handshake was brief and to the point; Fiyero vaguely recalled green as a color of sin for Unionists like the Governor. His young son was a bit more receptive, staring at Elphaba with amazement and a hint of disbelief rather than shying in disgust as his father might. The prince had an odd body language to him; always facing Elphaba, making eye contact whenever possible, and being as well-mannered and charming as a prince could be. Elphaba, for her part, didn't seem troubled by his behavior and spread her attentions evenly as a coat of whitewash.

The assembly, ten without counting Elphaba, sat around a circular table. There were six guards, hand-picked from the Court, to the ten of them; Fiyero and another man guarding one door, another pair for the one opposite it, and one man along each empty wall. Given Fiyero's relationship to the Witch, the Ozma of Thieves, he should have been sitting there beside her, but a fly on the wall was much more useful to Princess Elphaba than an imposing peasant lover. Elphaba seemed to have thought out every single detail, careful not to send mixed signals of favoritism or dislike. A round table. A meal of City delicacies. Wearing of pink, which showed no affiliation to the national colors of the provinces. Fiyero controlled an eyebrow twitch as the Prince ended up seated next to Elphaba. It was a strange crossfire Fiyero was caught in; the Prince was generally beloved back home, but something about the way he was acting made Fiyero want to keep the Prince far, far away from his love.

"I have to ask," one of the Gillkinese representatives said. "Was it a shock to discoverate your father was the Wizard?"

"How could it not?" Elphaba said. "Even if it was a father I never knew. The idea that the man responsible for my life had left this world was strenuous for me. It is possible I will never miss what I never had, but it is still a shock to the system."

"I've noticed the absence of the Gale Forcers," another Gillkinese said. "Is it that you do not trust them?"

"Their ranks were severely shaken by the attack, though the whole remains intact," Elphaba explained. "There are a few whom support me, but for tonight and for your safety I've chosen to put my own men, whom I would trust until the end of time, on duty. The usual guard will resume once the Wizard's Gale Force becomes my Gale Force."

"How are the Wizard's advisors taking the transition of power?" Again, a Gillkinese. _Talkative bastards._

"Well enough," Elphaba said. "Although I will need to weed through them for competency. I am not certain how many are political advisors and how many are professional party guests."

"It has come to our attention there is a lack of Quadling representatives. Many leave our lands seeking a better life, often in this City, and have been severely disappointed," one of the Quadlings spoke up with impeccable grammar. Fiyero was half-expecting one of Spider's syntax head-strokes.

"I have noticed that, though I cannot promise anything. I seek competency, and if another applicant is more qualified, I will have to choose who will help make Oz the best it can be. I already know the brilliance Quadling Country holds. I know several Quadlings personally, and they have all seen me through with a loyalty unheard of to humans. I can expect great things from your quarter of our great Oz as I can expect the sun to rise in the East and set in the West."

"Do you suggest you are immune to racism?" the Munchkinland Governor spoke up. Elphaba looked to him, meeting his cold comment with manners a few degrees below lukewarm.

"As daughter of the Wizard, I cannot hail from any land within the borders of Oz. I grew up in the cultural melting pot of the Emerald City, and I have felt the agonizing slap of racism myself. I have been denied service in every place of business imaginable for the color of my skin, though my money and intentions were purer than snow. If that does not constitute as immunity to such a brand of hatred, I don't know what does." _That's my Fae._

Dinner was served, and the choice of City specialties was a brilliant move indeed. The Gillkinese seemed the most responsive to what Elphaba said, followed by the Prince, the Quadlings, and lastly, the Governor and his young son, but Fiyero didn't know what the diamonds at her neck were showing Elphaba that was lost to him. One thing he did notice from his vantage point was how Elphaba managed to pass small hard candies to the Governor's son to keep him occupied during adult talk between dinner and what Fiyero knew was going to be a dessert unfavorable to a child's tastes. The Court had been thoroughly explained, along with her reasoning for beginning such a society, and what she expected to happen to it ("It will be dissolved, with conditions made inhospitable for such a society to arise again") since her identification as crown princess of Oz. She had been questioned about her religious affiliation and code of morals, plans for the military, the economy, public education, and specifically, her intentions for each of the provinces. Gradually, the tide of conversation seemed to shift away from Elphaba and toward the attendants themselves. Each province brought some brand of personal or political gossip to the table, which the Gillkinese reveled in. It was then that Fiyero realized why the Vinkus prince was acting differently than the others.

"And Prince Manek," one of the aristocrats turned the attention to the diamond-marked prince. "I understand your wife has died this week, yes?"

"Yes," he said, seeming wistfully nostalgic for his aforementioned spouse. "A poisonous mushroom found its way into her soup one evening. We fired the entire kitchen staff looking for the culprit."

"Everyone in the kitchens?" Elphaba repeated, not amused. Fiyero hazarded a guess the diamonds were not showing her something she liked. "You're certain it was a servant?"

"Fairly certain," Prince Manek said, sitting a little straighter. "The recycling of the staff was a necessary security precaution."

"How many people work in your royal kitchens?" Elphaba said. "A hundred, a hundred fifty people, maybe? A hundred and fifty people without jobs or any way to support themselves? Did you check if their affairs were in order and you weren't just turning them out on the streets to starve?"

"No," the Prince admitted. "They are all quite skilled-"

"In either cooking or the art of murder, as the story of your wife tells," Elphaba noted. "In firing your kitchen staff, you have created a hundred and fifty people without jobs, and a third of them are almost guaranteed to end up on the streets, increasing homelessness and crime."

"I… I never thought of it that way," Prince Manek said, his gaze growing a more wary.

"How about you rule the Vinkus," Elphaba suggested. "And leave the people that live there to me." It was all Fiyero could do to contain his smile as the Prince tried to defend himself.

"What makes you think you know how affairs are in the Vinkus?" Prince Manek asked.

"I listen to stories of natives," Elphaba said. "The endless plains and dusty fields are as familiar to me through eyewitness accounts as they would be to one who has been there. I know of houses constructed from dirt blocks so solid they serve as bricks, boys hunting each other with small clay balls in the grasses for practice and play, and farming their own food because it's too expensive to import even the most basic and overstocked staples from Munchkinland." Fiyero kept quiet at mentions of events from his childhood. 'Of natives' apparently referred to him.

"Yes, but that's only the peasants," Prince Manek pointed out.

"The peasants see all," Elphaba said. "They see the middle class is nomadic, traders who move from village to village to sell what they have and pick up new goods. Occasionally they take travelers and bring them somewhere else, maybe even to the royal castles, Noriko and Kiamo Ko. Kiamo Ko stands empty three-fourths of the year, am I correct?"

"Well, four months at Kiamo Ko, that's a third of the year."

"What's it doing the other eight months? Gathering dust. I would have thought the royal family would have found something for it to do the other eight months just so it doesn't just sit there."

"I'm beginning to get the feeling you don't like Vinkans," the Prince played a desperate card. Elphaba smiled at him, and Fiyero could safely guess she was thinking about his own Vinkan heritage.

"I have overwhelming respect for the Vinkan people," she said. "Genius is all over Oz, in every corner, under every tree, in every stream, in every providence. The problem is that it has been ignored and unsupported by my father." It was the first time Elphaba attacked the Wizard, and for the most part, nobody spoke of it. _I hope that's a good sign,_ Fiyero thought.

"And what of the Animals?" the Governor changed the subject. "Under the Wizard's Banns, many have been relocated to Munchkinland farms. Most of them are well suited for farm labor, but you understand, how does a Mole Rat help bring in a crop?"

"It won't," Elphaba agreed. "The Banns also caused a severe increase in the population of workers with a skill set incompatible to the work available. I'll try to encourage as many as I can to stay and help, but the Mole Rat–and any other Animal, for that matter–will be permitted the option to go home. One thing I've realized in any socio-economic class is that if you discriminate against anyone, for whatever reason, you shoot yourself in the foot by removing a perfectly competent group of people. No problem exists in a person's ethnic background, socioeconomic status, religious affiliation, or any other discriminating factor. It will be a painful process, as an example, for Unionists to learn that just because someone knows Lurline is waiting for him on the Other Side doesn't mean the Unnamed God wants him dead. But we can make it, and we'll be stronger in the end. That is my conviction."

The dinner ended a little while later, potentially cut a little bit short by the Governor's yawning son. The dignitaries stood, offering their pleasant and polite goodbyes to Elphaba, and Fiyero was certain they all left with the same thought in their minds; Elphaba would be a rigorous but fair monarch. As the doors closed behind them, the Court guards all converged, wanting to share what they thought about the person who ruled their home province. Fiyero, however, moved to Elphaba. The princess persona had deflated, her shoulders slumping and weight shifting to one leg. The front of her dress puckered a little, pleasingly but not inappropriately.

"You were really something out there," Fiyero said, swinging the rifle over his shoulder causally. Elphaba made a face.

"I think I held my own pretty well," she said, smiling softly. Thinking she would have been burned out by manners and politics, Fiyero did one of his oh-so-famous bold moves.

"I'm wondering how long it took you to get into that dress," he said quietly, looking over the pink silk. "But the more pressing question is, if you would let me help you get out of it." Elphaba folded her arms, giving Fiyero a stern look that would have shut him up instantly if she hadn't been grinning.

The door creaked open, setting the Court guards on edge again. Prince Manek had doubled back, apparently seeking out Elphaba. Quick as she could, Elphaba adopted her princess stance again.

"Apologies, Princess Elphaba," Prince Manek said, bowing his head. "I was wondering if I may speak to you alone."

"Speak," Elphaba said. Prince Manek glanced at the guards.

"Alone," he said. Elphaba nodded to the clump of guards, but secretly moved her foot on top of Fiyero's, asking him to stay.

"Speak," Elphaba said after the doors shut behind the majority of her guards. Prince Manek glanced at Fiyero, looking him over and seeing the stereotypical impression of a guard, maybe a bodyguard at best.

"Alone_,_" the Prince repeated, looking back to Elphaba.

"_Speak,_" Elphaba commanded, and Prince Manek had no other option.

"The Vinkus was more or less ignored by the Wizard for the last decade of his rule," Prince Manek said. "There were rubies in Quadling Country, food in Munchkinland, and big business in the Gillikin, but nothing came out of the West. The royal family grew in strength, and the Vinkus became a self-serving nation a part of a larger whole. The people may be hesitant to accept a strong and capable central Queen as you will be."

"What are you suggesting?" Elphaba asked.

"A political marriage," Prince Manek said. "Bringing the Vinkus closer to the rest of Oz." Fiyero's jaw locked; he saw the Prince's reasoning, but that would mean giving up Elphaba. She met Prince Manek's statement with an odd calm.

"Are you suggesting, that after a mere five hours of knowing me, that you are in love with me enough to propose?" Elphaba asked. Prince Manek blinked.

"That's not the point, Princess Elph-"

"Were you not in love with your late wife?"

"An arranged marriage from childhood, you can hardly call it-"

"Was your wife's curiously convenient death an accident?"

"Yes, of course, you don't think we eat poisonous-"

"Do you think the kitchen staff killed her?"

"Yes, they're the ones who handle our-"

"Do you even know the first thing about who I truly _am_?" Elphaba was staring at him intensely now, and for all his excuses, they failed under this one question.

"No... I don't."

"Fiyero," Elphaba said, gaining a more conversational tone. "Can you tell our guest which hand I write with?"

"Your right hand," Fiyero said automatically. He had watched her write warning letters to the Animals on the list.

"_Darling_, do you recall what foot I always start to climb stairs with?" Elphaba drew out the 'darling' a bit more than was absolutely necessary.

"You start with your left foot, and switch feet so you end up at the top on your right."

"_My love_, do you know which side I lie on to best fall asleep?"

"You start on your right, then roll over in the night to face the other direction." Nodding at Fiyero, Elphaba looked back to Prince Manek.

"Rest assured the Vinkus will be cared for, but I think a marriage to a commoner from the Vinkus would appeal to the masses more than an arranged royal marriage. Don't you agree?" she asked. The point had been driven absolutely home for the Vinkan Crown Prince; though she wore no ring or any obvious token of her devotions, Elphaba was well and thoroughly _taken_. Without another word, Prince Manek left the dining room, his steps long and quick to maybe catch up with the other dignitaries, if he was lucky. Fiyero shook his head, smiling, and turned to his beautiful Elphaba.

"I love you," he said sincerely. Elphaba nodded, calm and serene.

"Let's go," she said. "I'm already sick of being a princess."


	16. Playing With Fire

Fiyero and Elphaba, though nothing had been said about whether it had been a good idea to shame Prince Manek, returned to the apartment in the palace that they now shared. Fiyero was unwilling to leave her, and Elphaba seemed unwilling to tell him to go, and so there had been no rearrangement of lodgings. On the way back, they held hands, and Fiyero couldn't help but remember what Switch had told him when he had asked how old Elphaba was. _Looks like she's eighteen, acts like she's eighty. _He could practically feel how aged she was beside him, like an immortal spirit reborn again to live yet another life of suffering.

_I won't let her suffer anymore,_ Fiyero thought, opening the door. _Nothing will ever hurt her. Not while I'm around._

"Can you _believe_ them?!" Elphaba said as soon as the door had shut. "They killed his wife! They _killed_ her!"

"What did the diamonds show you?" Fiyero asked. "Did he do it?"

"It wasn't his fault, and it wasn't even his idea," Elphaba said, sitting down at an antique vanity and beginning to pull bobby pins out of her hair. "I think it was a power-hungry relative. If Prince Manek and I did end up married, then they'll be tied to my dynasty, and they'd either ride out life in luxury or kill him, me, and anyone else in their way!" She was getting angrier as she spoke, pulling out pins roughly and throwing them down with unnecessary force. "This was never a problem in the Court! When I was just the Witch, that freaky green bitch in control, nobody thought of me taking a husband, producing a fucking _heir_, passing on control, keeping the _royal_ family alive! Hell, I can't count on my fingers the Court men that died before forty! There's just as much pain and suffering here, and I'd much rather take it where nobody cared!" Tears were beginning to leak from her eyes, unbidden. Fiyero gently placed his arms around her, tracing small circles on her arm with one finger.

"Everything's going to be okay," Fiyero said. "I know it. If I were standing in your shoes right now, I would have already been overthrown or killed or worse. You healed everyone who was wounded in capturing the Wizard, winning the Gale Force; the Court is loyal to you, and so are your father's old advisors."

"Except Morrible," Elphaba said. Tears dropped down to Fiyero's arm, but he didn't care. He knew how important it was to let people cry; just so long as her pain disappeared, he would be happy.

"We know how to take care of her," Fiyero said. "She trusts you to do as she says and not plot against her. That's her downfall. She'll be out of our hair before you know it." They remained that way for a few minutes, Elphaba holding onto Fiyero as he stood behind her, safeguarding her from anything Oz could send her way.

"That reminds me," Elphaba said quietly. "I need to weed through the Wizard's advisors. I already know the Gale Force Captain is worthless. He's not even in fighting condition, and apparently he hasn't been for fifteen years."

"Oh?" Fiyero buried his face in her hair, breathing in how she smelled. Glinda had added a flowery orchid perfume, and it mixed with her usually musky smell in an intriguing way.

"Yes," she said. "I'm thinking about replacing him with you."

"Really?" Fiyero almost felt Elphaba roll her eyes.

"Yes. Really." She stood, turning to face him and return his embrace. "Do you want to?"

"I never really considered it."

"I think you can do it."

"Why?"

"You've already proved you can lead men into a dangerous situation and prevail. You're in good physical condition, commanding respect while also urging the other officers to hold strength requirements rather than get lazy. Seeing one of their own become Captain might encourage more of the Court to make their new life as a Forcer. They can move easily in the City slums, and prevent other Courts from arising, and it keeps them closer to me, if that's what they want."

"Can you even think of one reason I shouldn't be Captain in all that?" Fiyero asked jokingly.

"Easy. You shouldn't be Captain if you don't want to." Fiyero shook his head.

"You astound me," he said. "Of course I'll do it. All you had to do is ask." She placed her head on his chest, closing her eyes.

"Every decision made has a ripple effect of results," Elphaba said. "This particular decision has waves of good in it. More control, giving the Court a place to go, putting in an able advisor… And with your position of power, the nobility won't care when we get married." Fiyero couldn't help but smile. Elphaba always knew exactly how to take any situation and twist it so that everybody was-

"Wait, when we get married? Not if, _when_?" Fiyero stopped short.

"Yes. When." Elphaba reached her fingers up until they touched his hair, slowly twisting through it. "I'm surprised you didn't catch it when Prince Manek got flattened. A marriage to a Vinkan commoner. Who _else_ do you think it would be?"

Fiyero didn't have anything to say; he just stood there, stupefied, staring at the unbelievable woman in front of him.

"I love you," was all he could say. She kissed him quietly, speaking to him without words. _I know. I love you, too._

"We're not out of the woods yet, though," Elphaba said. "There's still Morrible breathing down our necks. We need her out of the way."

"We can do it. You have all the magic in order?"

"Yes. All that's left is to do it."

"Then we do it. And then everything's going to be all right."

"Don't say that. It means something will go wrong."

"We'll be ready."

"Just stop!" Elphaba cried, but caught herself. "I'm sorry. It's just I'm so… used to things going wrong, that I need help believing things might go right for a change."

"Better believe it," Fiyero said. "I won't let things go wrong anymore."

* * *

Madame Morrible was sitting in her study, watching a candle flickering on her desk. Fire was a lot like what Elphaba was, now that she was thinking about it. The green girl was dangerous, certainly, but she flickered. If Morrible said the right words, she could get the 'princess' to do whatever she wanted. _Princess._ Humph. That girl wasn't a princess. She had no manners, no class, and for all of her passionate words and convictions, had no tact. If she even had half a brain she would have realized that Morrible was a threat to her. Albeit, the threat was deep, but if things ever turned sour, Morrible could easily overthrow her. For now, it was much less stressful to just play the part of a fire-manipulator.

"Madame?" A Gale Forcer entered her study, saluting. "The Princess is having difficulties with a prisoner in the dungeons. Your magical expertise is required." Morrible smiled to herself. Elphaba was flickering again.

"Our princess is not capable of handling something herself?" she said, standing. "I'll come. It can't be all that difficult." The soldier turned, leading the way down toward the dungeons as Morrible silently gloated.

_By giving my help, I can reassert that she's nothing without me,_ Morrible said. _Just because she can read the Grimmerie doesn't mean she can understand what she's reading. That's where I come in; she'll never succeed without me, but I certainly can thrive without her._

The cell block was empty; even the guards that usually were stationed at the entrance to the stairwell were gone. The one occupied cell had three people in it; there was a prisoner with a wooden yolk across his shoulders and his hands locked in with shackles, that boyfriend Elphaba kept around, and the princess herself. The Gale Forcer opened the door to let Morrible in, and shut it behind her with an ominous _clang_.

"What seems to be the problem, Princess Elphaba?" Morrible asked haughtily.

"The problem is, we're not really interrogating a traitor," Elphaba said, and spoke a few short words of power. Morrible's vision went black for a second, but she was aware of her arms being held, and heavy metal rings being clamped around her wrist. The blackness cleared a second later, and she could see Elphaba, Fiyero, and the man she had assumed to be a prisoner standing before her. She vaguely recognized him as a Forcer she had seen around, a Gillikin blonde with an obnoxious smirk. _Is he a traitor? Or… Have we been spied on? _"Much better," Elphaba finished, folding her arms.

Morrible called upon her own magic; winds, lightning, hail, but nothing happened. She ran through every spell she knew, even ones she wasn't as adept at, and even trying to fire a healing spell at her just to find out if she could do anything, but no spell was cast. _What's going on?!_

"Surprised?" Elphaba asked sardonically. "The shackles absorb magical energy. You can't do a thing with your powers."

"What's going on, Princess?" Morrible asked. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Like you don't know?" Elphaba kicked Morrible in the shins, and the woman fell. "You were the evil behind my father's throne. You took a man who might have been good and corrupted him. And now he's dead, shot by his own daughter, because of you." Elphaba bent down to Morrible's level. "So I want some answers out of you. I'm going to cure every wound you inflicted upon Oz, and I'll make sure you're alive to see it, but I can't guarantee that you'll be fit to enjoy it. You are going to SouthStairs. It's up to you to decide what you look like when you get there." Elphaba stood again, and folded her arms.

"Now," she said. "Who's idea was it to cage the Animals?"

"Princess Elphaba, I beg you, there's been some mistake!" Morrible pleaded, but the fake prisoner punched her in the face. Pain resounded throughout her skull.

"Tell her if you're the reason so many are hurting," the man said. Morrible locked her jaw. She wouldn't tell them.

"You better talk, Morrible," the boyfriend told her. "There's a whole lot of avoidable suffering ahead of you."

"Cages were an invention of the Wizard's world," Morrible admitted. Maybe they'd move on if she just fed them technical truths. "All animals are silent there."

"Was it your idea to put our Animals in cages? To make them the enemy?" Morrible locked her jaw again. There was no getting out of that one.

"Avatar?" Elphaba nodded to the terrorist, and he broke Morrible's little finger on her left hand. She gasped in pain, involuntary tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Mine," she said. "It was my idea."

"Are there any Animals still in cages?" Elphaba asked. All right, she wasn't going to say another word. Whatever hardships came her way, she could placate herself with the thought of the Animals. They would suffer. They would never speak again, they would never tarnish the golden shine of Ozian people. She would never talk. Elphaba paced a little, but her face remained blank and almost bored.

"Avatar, you may continue," she said. Avatar broke Morrible's next finger, then the next, until all the fingers on her left hand were limp and bent. Morrible was sobbing quietly now, but she took pride in how she kept her promise. She would never talk.

Avatar moved onto the next hand. Less than a minute, all of those fingers were broken, too.

_At least the pain will stop,_ Morrible thought. _With ten fingers gone, there's nothing left for them to break._

"The toes next," Elphaba commanded. "Break her toes."

Morrible felt her shoes and stockings being removed, but when she tried to kick, her fingers moved, causing her more pain.

In five minutes, her toes were broken, too. Morrible resisted the nearly all-consuming urge to vomit. The pain reached her core, making her tremble and weaken. But that was the point of torture, she knew it, having tortured enemies of the Wizard before. Make them weaken, and they'll do anything to make the pain stop.

"Wow," the boyfriend said. "She's tough for an old lady."

"She's not a lady," Elphaba said. "She's a shell of a human being. Nothing in her can possibly feel pain, because if she could, then she would have given up or gone insane a long time ago." Elphaba's eyes met Morrible's, and Morrible realized what had happened. Elphaba had never trusted her. That bitch had tricked Morrible into thinking that she was the one in control, and used Morrible's influence to gain power as Morrible crowed over her perceived cleverness. Morrible blinked, letting more tears fall with the sole purpose of getting them out of her eyes. That girl may have beaten her, but she won't break her. Nothing will ever break her.

"Looks like you're going to need more convincing," Elphaba said. "Atemu."

The whole world exploded into fire. Every vein in Morrible's body was ignited with hellish flames, burning her insides and flaking away at her skin. She screamed like she had never screamed before, with each ounce of air leaving her body causing a whole new wave of anguish. Elphaba said another word, and the fire was extinguished, but the memory of its strength sent phantom signals of pain to Morrible's mind. Slowly, she regained her bearings, and found that she had fallen over, painfully jarring her fingers. She struggled to sit up again and relieve the pressure.

"How did I inflict so much pain with a single word?" Elphaba asked, reading Morrible's fragmented mind. "When the shackles absorbed your spells, I gained the power to release the raw energy back onto you. So, that's just an extension of the pain you brought upon yourself when you decided that you were through with being nice and went forth to do terrible things." Morrible was still panting, for the first time realizing that she was afraid. She was afraid of what Elphaba could do to her, what the future held for her, and if she would live to see it.

"Are you ready to talk now?" Elphaba asked. "To answer for your crimes, to accept responsibility for the mess I'm going to fix?"

_She's strong…_ Morrible thought. _She's so strong… But… If I can be stronger than her, then I win… I have to win…_

"Atemu."

The fire came back. There was no way Morrible could have prepared for it, and the second time was even worse than the first. She lost feeling in her extremities, which was a welcome thing, but it made the parts that didn't go numb hurt all the worse. How could magic, something she had so easily controlled her whole life, be so dreadful? But that might just be it; all she had done her entire life was manipulate things. Now, all that she had manipulated was coming back to her, torturing her. Killing her.

The fire died away, dwindling into spurts of agony that finally ended.

"Huh," Elphaba said. "The magic ran out. Mahado," she said, ending the flow of magic into Morrible. She then placed her hands on the wooden block and began chanting a powerful spell from the Grimmerie, channeling her own power into the hated device. It didn't even matter if she knew what the spell was, because it wouldn't take effect. That girl had chosen the longest and trickiest spell with the undoubted strongest result and memorized it, and was now going to use it to break her enemy.

"Wait!" Morrible gasped. "Don't! Please!" Elphaba stopped.

"So are you going to talk?" Elphaba asked.

"…Yes…" Morrible said. "I'll talk… you… you win."

"Thank you," Elphaba said. "Now, are there any Animals still in cages?"

"There are files… in the Wizard's apartment, there's some loose floorboards in the main bedroom closet. There's a secret compartment under them, and all the Animals in cages are listed there, along with where they're being held. And there's a cage in the Throne Room, with Monkeys in it. A red lever behind the Wizard's head opens it."

"Anything else we should know about?" Elphaba said. "Speak to answer me."

"Oscar figured out how to travel between the worlds," Morrible said. "You need a rainbow… and if you can go over it, then you'll land in the other world. He found it out just as he started settling in as Wizard, so he didn't want to go…"

"Could other people get through to Oz?" Elphaba asked.

"Yes," Morrible said. "With the Wizard, it was an accident. Accidents can happen."

"Do you know anything else about the Grimmerie?"

"There are a few spells I translated… basic ones. We were going to make the monkeys in the cage fly as soon as we had found a talented student who could read the Grimmerie."

"All right," Elphaba said. "We're finished with you. The Gale Force will bring you to SouthStairs, and you'll be kept there until you die." Morrible nodded. She took one last look at Elphaba, the candle, the flame she had thought she could so easily control.

_If you play with fire, you will get burned…_ Morrible thought, then lost consciousness.

* * *

Elphaba stood on the balcony, overlooking the crowd gathering there. It was the moment of truth; the moment the public found out that their beloved Morrible had lied to them. She just hoped that she was beloved enough to be believed.

"My people!" Elphaba began. "Today is a day of sadness and tragedy. My press secretary, Madame Morrible, has proven traitorous!"

Echoes of "Morrible?" ran through the crowd. "Morrible…" _was the one who told us what to believe._ "Morrible!" _always knew who was on the side of good._ "Morrible?" _told us that you were trustworthy…_ Elphaba sensed the people making the final association, and pressed on.

"She was the one who convinced the Wizard to initiate Animal Banns, removing them from society and torturing them without cause! They were being kept in cages until they could 

not speak! With her removal, Oz can finally enter an age of unity and true progress!" The people were still not satisfied, stirring nervously and looking about to their neighbors, trying to find someone to turn to. Someone besides Elphaba.

"My people!" Elphaba repeated. "This age of transition will be difficult, but by banding together, we may-"

Someone in the crowd threw a rock at Elphaba. It fell short, not even reaching the balcony, but the expression of violence stopped everything in its tracks. The would-be attacker faded into the crowd, and fear replaced anxiety. Would there be more fighting? Would there be more war? The single contained battle at the Palace had been bad enough.

Elphaba scanned the crowd, thinking over her assessment of the Ozian people as a whole. They were slow to stir to action, but once you had enraged them, it took a lot to calm them down. The same was happening here. After so much political turmoil, the Ozians were getting fed up, and needed someone to believe in. Elphaba bowed her head and curtsied, a symbol of servitude, and left the balcony. Fiyero was waiting for her in the hallway, his eyes shadowed and concerned.

"What happens now?" he asked.

"Now," Elphaba said. "We wait."


	17. Crimes of the Heartless

Oz was on edge. Everyone could sense it; people went out less frequently, and even then hurried through errands and returned home. Frightened Ozians met in hushed corners to try and find out more about what was going on in the Palace, but nobody had any facts; only rumors. Morrible had been put to death in secret. The terrorists were planning to overthrow their own leader, and Morrible had been used as an example, but by which side was uncertain. Mostly the rumors were discounted, but nobody knew what to believe, and the initial reaction was to try and ignore it. Though every three or four days, one or two people would make a desperate protest; threatened suicide, defacing a public structure, trying to break into the palace, but they were always caught and calmed. Still, their efforts had the desired effect. Nobody could forget how their princess had been put in line for the throne of Oz by a traitor, and how this caused her image to waver. Was she trustworthy? Was she in it for the power or for the good of Oz, as she claimed? Her coronation had been postponed as a response to her shaky image. She could have tried to speed the process and assert herself as queen, but she seemed to be waiting for public approval. The hesitation matched the mood of the Ozians; uncertain and afraid.

But still, in the face of any danger, life had to go on. For instance, Ax was practicing writing his name. His real name; Elphaba, the Witch, had explained how that with the Court breaking up, there was no need for secrecy. She was going to let them start over with full pardons for criminal activity, and they couldn't begin a new life if they continued to hide who they were. And so, he was sitting on his newly assigned bed in one of the Gale Force lodges, writing the letters over and over again. A large upper-case B, then a little circle for o, and then the q. The q's tail always gave him trouble; it just wouldn't curl the right way and made it look like a 'g', like 'Bog'. Boq had some reading skills, but his writing left a lot to be desired, and so he practiced, mostly to keep his mind off of the fact that he still wasn't fully pardoned. He had yet to answer to the Witch for his deception of her and her sister. He continued to try and keep it out of his mind.

B… o… q.

B… o… q.

B… o… g. Boq threw down his pencil, rubbing at his eyes. Why was he even bothering? The Witch was probably going to kill him anyway; what did he have to look forward to in the future? He wasn't going to survive, he wasn't going to see the new Oz without the Wizard, and that was that. He was going to die.

He took out his speller, looking at the pristinely perfect letters of the alphabet and copying another word. S-o-r-r-y. The 's' had an extra loop to it, which he erased, and the 'r's were wobbly, but it was the word 'sorry'. He continued writing, biting his tongue in concentration.

_Bog is sorry._ He tried again. _Boq is sorry for… what… he did._ What good would being sorry do him, either? The Witch wouldn't believe him. Four years of giving drugs to a girl was unforgivable, no matter how sorry he was. But then again, he had been four years younger when he first decided to do it. A fourteen-year-old boy didn't want a ten-year-old girl hanging on him, calling him her boyfriend, dragging him through a childlike romance of holding hands and little kisses. Then there was Glinda, a woman his age who gave him what he wanted so long as he paid. And Elphaba had given him a safe position with extra pay, in exchange for entertaining her sister. He had been fed up with that little girl who wanted to be a woman like her sister, and did what he thought he had to do. He liked to think he had grown up since then. He wasn't sure if he had. Elphaba would judge whether he had grown up or not, and he wasn't optimistic about her opinions.

"You okay?" A rescued Gale Forcer and a new friend of Boq's, Jedo, was folding his spare Force jacket and placing it in his trunk. Jedo was nice, but Boq sometimes felt inferior when placed beside the well-kept soldier. His hair was neatly trimmed, his physique strong, and he was always crisp and cool and ready to pass inspection. He was nothing like the rag-bag Court men, but he was kind, and it was comforting to know some kindness as Boq prepared for his 'trial'.

"I'm fine," Boq said. "The letters get to me sometimes."

"Just keep practicing," Jedo encouraged. "By the way, Captain Granpon is resigning. He picked one of the Court to be his replacement. Fiyero Tiggular?" Boq shook his head.

"If I know him, I don't know his name," Boq said.

"Um… Vinkan, a bit tanned with straw-blond hair. Much younger than the Captain, and in better shape, too. Easy-going, but a little bit smart. Mouthed off Lieutenant Vou during his speech." Boq dropped his pencil and paper.

"Wait, that's Diamond! I know him!" Boq said. "The Witch had him lead us against the Wizard. He's like her second-in-command." He held back how Diamond and Elphaba were involved. Spreading rumors that Elphaba had chosen her lover for a high political office would get him in deeper trouble. Jedo's eyes widened.

"Wow," he said. "He's something, isn't he? I got the feeling that the Court only followed Princess Elphaba."

"He was acting in her stead, and the plan almost went to hell because we thought he had betrayed her. But he hadn't. I know he hadn't."

"Come on, Ax-man, cheer up," Jedo sat down on top of his trunk, facing Boq. "Princess Elphaba will be fair to you. You don't have to worry."

"In all fairness, I deserve to die for what I've done," Boq said. "Imagine you have a sister, and she's the only family you know. Then imagine she's sick, and then imagine that her boyfriend has had her hooked on drugs so that he can ditch her." Jedo shifted.

"…So?" Boq closed his eyes. Jedo was being nice, trying to discount the situation.

"Then imagine she's somewhere around ten."

"Ouch," Jedo said, shining his boots for something to do. "Boq, if you want me to, I can put in a good word for you. You've really been practicing learning how to write better, and you'd be a good addition to society-"

"She'll think I put you up to it, and it'll get me in deeper trouble. If you really think about it, the trial's already happened. I'm waiting for the sentence."

"Nobody said you were awaiting capital punishment. Make plans for if you get let off."

"What's the point? Capital punishment is what I deserve. If I do live, I'd go back to Munchkinland. Live out the rest of my life with no trouble."

The door to the lodge opened, and Thorrin stood in the entrance.

"Hey, is A- is Boq in here?" Boq stood up.

"Yeah!" he called back.

"The Witch wants you at her rooms!" Thorrin disappeared. Jedo and Boq shared a glance.

"Good luck," Jedo said.

"Yeah," Boq responded as he started leaving. "That."

The walk was long and slow, and Boq could feel his heart pounding with every step. He was walking to the gallows, every stride bringing him closer to his fate. Again, he thought of running away. He could turn and run and never be found, even if Elphaba knew his name, but he couldn't bring himself to go. The magnitude of what he had done was too great, and the thought of not facing the consequences was greater than the consequences themselves.

Boq arrived at Elphaba's room, hands shaking. He could give up, but he couldn't. He wouldn't. Even if Elphaba was going to kill him, nobody could say he didn't accept his mistakes. He knocked, then waited for response. None came, but the door opened. Elphaba stood on the other side, staring down at him. Boq tried to meet her eyes, but failed, instead staring at the floor.

"Come in," Elphaba said. "And take a seat." There was an armchair facing away from the door, but Elphaba indicated the sofa across from it. As Boq moved to sit down, Elphaba stood behind the armchair. Boq stared at the occupant of the chair.

Nessa.

She was different, like a ghost that had come from some other joyless world to haunt him. Dark circles framed her brown eyes, and her face seemed gaunter, making her cheekbones stand out dangerously. Her hands rested gently on the arms of the chair, but the fingers were white from the effort of curling them over the lip of the arms, and one trembled slightly. It was the most beautiful she had ever been, but it was the beauty of a poisonous spider as it prepared to ensnare its prey. Boq thought he had been used to seeing Nessa so weak, but the tides had changed. Not only was Nessa weak, but she was fighting her own frailty. Elphaba leaned against the top of the chair's high back, with one hand trailing down her sister's arm protectively, like a dangerous pet dragon. Boq finally realized why it had taken Elphaba so long to call him; she had been waiting for her sister to recover and decide what happened to him. Elphaba wasn't the judge, as Boq had expected her to be. She was the executioner, prepared to carry out whatever judgment Nessa decided on.

"I've spoken with a physician," Nessa said, her voice quiet but every word hitting its mark. "He said I might recover in a year, but there's no telling what else the drug might have done. Mind Haze is a terrible substance, responsible for the deaths of hundreds in the City alone each year. Half of them are probably teenagers, just like me. I'm one of the lucky ones." Boq felt his stomach drop, his face grow pale. _Nessa, what have I done to you?_

"I'm curious," Nessa said. "What was running through your mind when you first gave me Mind Haze? We had the agreement we would both do it together, but apparently you're a very good actor, and didn't swallow like I did."

"I…" Boq tried to speak, but found it hard. Sweat began to run down his neck in cold little trails, like demon fingers.

"I'm just curious, Boq," Nessa said. "It's all right." Boq wasn't sure whether to believe her or not.

"I felt like the king of Oz," Boq admitted. "If I gave you Mind Haze, it meant I didn't have to spend as much time with you and I could still get all the benefits of being in Elphaba's favor. I was fourteen, and the idea that I could trick everyone was…" Boq trailed off.

"It was a good deception," Nessa said. "Not everyone could have seen through it. You have Diamond to thank for you being here. He was the one who pieced it together and realized my 'illness' was drug-induced, and who had access to both drugs and me but you?"

She paused, letting this sink in. Boq replayed memories in his head; telling Diamond about the Mind Haze in the cologne, agreeing to give him 'medicine for his mind'. Now that he thought about it, Fiyero had been clear as crystal in the days following. Definitely depressed, angry, but Boq could see clarity in his eyes. And now that Nessa had her clarity back, Boq was realizing how dangerous a person was when they could think straight. Nessa continued after a moment.

"But you really shouldn't blame him for it. It was a painful for him, too. Fabala banned him from coming to the house, and changed the password on him. But then she found out that he was right."

_So Diamond's the reason Elphaba began to suspect me?_ Boq wondered, staring at Nessa. Blame was smothered by an awful comparison. _He and I were a lot alike… Elphaba has a corner of her heart for him the same way Nessa does for me, but I exploited mine while he respected it. That's the difference between us. If I had controlled myself back then, this wouldn't have happened! If I could have just said no, or learned to love Nessa, then everything would have been okay._

"I can see you thinking," Nessa said, her mouth twitching in a smile. "But before you blame Diamond for your problems, you should know this. He respects you for what you did when Fabala delegated him to lead the Court. You admitted to all Oz that you had done something wrong, though you couldn't say what without jeopardizing me. You helped him get control of the Court, and without that everything would have been lost. The battle against the Wizard, the victory over Morrible, and even a lot of my recovery. Mind Haze weakened me, and I was at a great risk of catching a real disease that could kill me. Fabala's new… shall we say, position of influence, has helped me get the medicine I needed. Pills that help me rather than hurt me."

"Why are you telling me this?" Boq asked. Nessa closed her eyes, and for a second, Boq thought she was dead.

"He suggested mercy. I intend to let you walk, Boq," she said. "But I'd like to see you love again when you hold the knowledge in your heart of what you did to someone who loved you. You had the intelligence to admit to your actions and the courage to face the consequences, but you still have a lot to learn about love." Boq looked down, knowing she was right.

"I had come in here expecting to die," Boq said. "But… This is fair. This is what I deserve."

"_I_ still think you deserve to die," Elphaba said from her 'perch' above Nessa.

"No, it is. Nessa is right. If I'm ever going to love someone who loves me back, I'm going to have to tell her about this, or I'll never bear the guilt. Thanks… for letting me live, but…" Boq stopped. How could he put down in words the punishment he was going to bear? A half-life, a life spent toeing the fine line of secrecy and moving on, of guilt and innocence. He would not be punished for his crime, but he wasn't pardoned. And it was fair.

"But?" Nessa asked.

"Forget it," he said. "If I say it, I won't be understood. Thank you."

"Dismissed," Nessa said. Boq stood, and bowed to Nessa before he left, astounded at the justice she had given him. _She could have done anything to me now that Elphaba's the ruler of Oz, _Boq thought. _But she decided to let me go. I'll always remember this, Nessa, and I'll always be grateful._

As the door shut, a tear slipped from Nessa's eye.

"Nessie?" Elphaba knelt beside the chair, catching the tear on her finger. "Are you all right?"

"I'm having the same tongue-tied feeling Boq was," Nessa said. "If I try to explain it, it will lose all meaning. But I'm all right." Elphaba hugged her sister tightly.

"Good. I'm glad."

* * *

Fiyero threw himself into his lessons for Captain of the Guard. The morning consisted of physical training before it got too hot outside; running, strength training, and instruction in using the traditional pike, hand-to-hand combat, and rifleman-ship that all officers were trained it. Avatar, or as his true name was, Avaric, was usually his sparring partner. It was a relief to know that Avatar hadn't been killed in the fight, but he tried to keep his mind off of the miracle before he thought of someone who hadn't been so lucky. The afternoons were mostly book-learning, with the previous Captain teaching him the Code of the Guard and different tactics the Force had used over the years. Fiyero did well in hand-to-hand combat and guerilla tactics, but using gunpowder weapons was new to him, and he wasn't sure how to combat his own strategies, so there was still a lot to learn. Even after military lessons were done, the Capitan would spend the last hour or so giving Fiyero a crash course in manners. Out of all his lessons, he hated it the most.

Sparring with Avaric was one of the things he looked forward to in his day; Avaric wasn't much better than him, being new to the Gale Force, and as a good friend, was easy to talk to. As they practiced the basic spear routines, a set of fine-tuned strikes, blocks, and stance changes, they could talk freely about what was on their minds.

"So how are you and the Esteemed Princess of Oz doing?" Avatar asked one day.

"There's a lot of stress right now," Fiyero said. "That whacko with the dynamite stirred up trouble again. Nothing's really going to happen until everything calms down, and I'm established as Captain."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not Captain because I'm in bed with the princess," Fiyero said. "I'm Captain because she thinks I'm qualified. _Then_ we're going to slowly introduce public displays of affection."

"Politics suck, don't they? She'd be all over you if we were back in Court."

"You got that right," Fiyero said without thinking.

"Do I, now?" Fiyero broke from the routine to jab Avaric in the stomach.

"I meant about politics sucking."

"Wait a second…" Avaric stopped, looking over Fiyero's shoulder and out into the street. Fiyero turned to see what he was looking at, and saw a group of about twenty soldiers in silver coats with purple plumes in their hats were marching through the streets toward the main gate. "That's the Gillikin Guard!"

"What the hell are they doing here?" Fiyero asked.

"I don't know, but we won't let them show the Gale Force up!" Avaric unfolded Fiyero's Captain jacket, throwing it over his friend's shoulders as he rubbed at dirt on Fiyero's face.

"Hey, get off of me!" Fiyero shoved Avaric aside. "I thought you were a Gillkinese, anyway."

"I'd rather be Gale Force," Avaric said. "Those aristocrats didn't do shit for me. The Witch did, in the end. The whole Court feels the same way." With those words on his mind, Fiyero found the water bucket and washed off his face and hands, running to reach the front of the palace before the Gillikin Guard did. He arrived at the steps just as the Guard rounded the corner, passing through the gate and approaching Fiyero.

"Welcome to the Emerald City," Fiyero told them, extending one hand to the leader of the Guard while keeping the other behind his back, like the retiring Captain had shown him. "To what office do we owe the honor of your visit?"

"We have been sent as a protection detail for the Princess Elphaba until her coronation," the leader said, taking Fiyero's hand. "And we are to deliver this to her." The man pulled out a folded piece of parchment sealed with purple wax. Not deciding to argue, Fiyero nodded for the on-duty men to allow the Gillkinese in. He started to Elphaba's study with the Guard behind him, twenty-four men from one quadrant of Oz. What were they doing here? Well, they said protection detail, but Fiyero was sure that the answers were on that parchment.

He knocked at Elphaba's door, and opened it. She was pouring over law books, making notes as usual. He smiled at her quickly before introducing the Guard, and then the leader stepped forward.

"On behalf of the Council of the Gillikin, I am to deliver this to you," Elphaba took the parchment and broke the wax, looking over the document. There was a small slip of paper inside the parchment, which Elphaba set aside for the moment, focusing on the parchment.

"We, the undersigned, on behalf of the state of the Gillikin, do recognize Elphaba, daughter of His Ozness, the Great and Terrible, as the legitimate ruler of Oz. The Gillikin will continue to recognize her as Queen after her coronation and until her death or retirement, and will also recognize named heirs as rightful rulers in order of predetermined succession. The Gillkinese Guard may be called upon in times of war, and will obey orders from Queen Elphaba and her descendants or heirs as if from the Council of the Gillikin." Elphaba scanned the rest of the document, then picked up the other piece of paper. Fiyero could barely believe it. The Gillikin swore loyalty to Elphaba! The Gillkinese nobles at the state dinner had been won over! Order might be restored in Oz, there might be a chance at all of this coming to a happy ending…

"I can't allow three shifts of eight," Elphaba said. "However, four shifts of six would be much more manageable."

"You misunderstand, Princess Elphaba," the leader said. "This schedule was drafted by our superiors. He knows to not overestimate our abilities."

"I would rest easier if you all had a full night's sleep before coming on duty. And you also forget, the Gale Force is usually responsible for my protection. Your presence is comforting in a period of civil unrest, but the Gale Force is not useless. I will supplement your ranks with Forcers. Captain?" Elphaba turned to Fiyero, hiding a glint in her eye. It was almost like a game to address each other as Captain and Princess, like it was a part of their job to play pretend and then laugh about it once the day was done.

"Yes, Princess?" Fiyero stood up straighter.

"Select some of your finest men to assist the Gillikin Guard. Eight total, to be put on the same schedule as the Gillkinese."

"Right away, Princess," Fiyero said, and with a small bow, left the room.

_So that's what the Guard was doing here! The Gillikin recognizes Elphaba as a legitimate ruler!_

He could only hope the other three proviences would follow suit. Each one had something to blame the central government for, all for different reasons. Munchkinland was suspicious of her magic, Quadling Country had been betrayed by the Wizard, and was wary of his daughter, and the Vinkus had asked for Elphaba's hand, and she had defied the logical choice.

Hope was the only thing they had left.


	18. Ultimatum

The Gillikin Guard added another dimension to Fiyero's life that was more awkward that unwelcome. Not only did he have to shed his reputation as a thief and take on the role of Captain, but he also had to maintain respect with the Court, train physically, reorganize security for the palace, and instruct the Gale Force accordingly, and learn the names of the Guardsmen, all the while dodging embarrassing questions about when he would return to Elphaba's apartment at night. He mentioned this discomfort to her in passing, and she quickly made herself presentable and went outside.

"There are three people in my family," Elphaba's voice penetrated the door. "My sister, Nessarose, Glinda, and Fiyero. Their reasons in my apartments are not to be questioned at any hour." Fiyero had seconds to hide the shy, proud grin before she returned.

Elphaba was his main concern in the following weeks, mostly because of the pressure. Fiyero did everything he had the power to do, but that was still very limited to the military. Outside of inspection, he could do nothing else but watch as Elphaba balanced diplomats, delegates, messengers, treaty drafts, and her pet project of revising laws. She also had the increasingly problematic press to deal with. Eager to help, Fiyero allowed her to bounce phrases and paragraphs off of him as she wrote her own speeches and declarations, all of them outlining her vision.

"Oz is not comprised of the Emerald City," Elphaba read aloud, writing as she went. "It is a quartet, acting under the direction of a central leader. My power does not extend to all corners of Oz. I must… No," She would trail off, scratch large sections, write new ones, and then restart at the last point where she changed something.

"Acting under the direction of a central leader… I have no more authority to make laws for any province than… Than…"

"Than…" Fiyero struggled with this as well. His reading material since he arrived in the Emerald City had been simple books written for simple people in search of an adventure. "…crazy person?"

"Lunatic?" Elphaba suggested. Fiyero didn't argue. "But I can't offend _anyone_. If this settles down, I can afford to be incorrect, but until then, I'm walking on eggs."

"Really pretty eggs," Fiyero mumbled, and waved away her questioning look. "And for the lunatics, people will know what you mean. I don't think a lunatic will be offended if you say that he shouldn't rule Oz." Elphaba made a face, but wrote down 'lunatic'.

While Elphaba was Fiyero's greatest concern, Nessa was clearly Elphaba's. She was recovering, but it was slow, and obviously painful. She was very, very underweight, and that was hindering her recovery. The doctors couldn't feed her immediately, or else her stomach would reject the large quantities of food. She could barely stomach what they did decide to feed her, anyway. She was less than five feet tall, her growth stunted by drug use, and weighed sixty-eight pounds. Both Fiyero and Elphaba could carry her with little effort. Glinda was able to, also, but only if Nessa rode on her back. The three of them, along with the doctor and other palace staff, gave her frequent 'tours' of the palace, letting Nessa touch her feet down when she was strong enough and picking her back up when her energy ran out.

While her physical body remained weak, Nessa exercised her mind as much as she could. She tried to use longer, more descriptive sentences, talked frequently and often, and asked if she could try to read the same law books her sister was. Some of the words were too long or complicated for Nessa, and ordinarily, the person to ask would have been her sister, had Dr. Dillamond not offered to help her.

Fiyero discovered the aging Goat was a scholastic idol of Elphaba's ever since her reading developed to the point where she could understand his essays, and was also quite impressed with Dr. Dillamond's verbal aptitude. He spent a few hours with Nessa every day, helping to translate laws for her and using the rest of the time to learn more about Elphaba, who believed her every bit as mysterious and idealized as she did him. It was an interesting paradox that Fiyero found he enjoyed. The rare moments Elphaba and Dr. Dillamond did have together felt like intellectual sporting events. One would speak, the other would analyze, then respond, and the first would also consider the statement and make a counter-point. Fiyero always got lost after a few minutes in, and had to go find other things to do in the palace while Elphaba satiated her thirst for knowledge that Fiyero just couldn't supply.

Often, Fiyero didn't even know what Elphaba was doing until the day was done, and found out during "bureaucratic councils" between himself, Elphaba, and Elphaba's _other_ sister, Glinda. The hopefully-ex-whore had a new sense of modesty about her now that she no longer had to work, in her usual sense of the word, for a living. Her dresses were simple, covering her neck, knees, and often her elbows, but always had a little design around cuffs or at skirts. Having no political duties, Fiyero learned from palace gossip that the whores had sold a large portion of their flashy cut-glass, and had used the money for fabric, thread, and needles. Stitch by stitch, they were making a new life for themselves. In spite of her new modesty, Glinda always assumed her place in Elphaba's life with near-alarming certainty.

"So how long until I can help you dress for your coronation?" Glinda would say every night that the "bureaucratic council" met. Elphaba would take a deep breath before continuing.

"Well, tomorrow should be the day that I wrap everything up with the Governor's ambassador. We're in the final draft of the treaty that brings Munchkinland into the Confederation of Oz. Efforts in Animal relocation are going well, but people will need to get used to seeing them in public again. I've just met with my second messenger from the Quadling country, and they mostly display indifference. I have to convince them to join me, or else it doesn't count. Vinkus… Is difficult," Elphaba finished.

"Difficult?" Glinda repeated skeptically. "That's all it is, difficult?"

"There's something they want and there's something we want," Elphaba said, resting her head on her hands so that her fingers touched her temples. "We can't give them what they want, so they won't give us what we want." Glinda ran over that sentence again, before responding.

"What do they want?" Glinda asked.

"For the new widower, Prince Manek, to take a second wife," Fiyero said sardonically.

"Why is that a problem? Who do they have in mind?"

"Me," Elphaba said. Glinda made a distinctly disgusted face.

"Oz, Elphie, _no_! No way am I letting you do something like that."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Elphaba said. "I haven't changed my mind, my answer is no, but I don't see anything else we can give them." The three sat in silence for a long time.

"What if… you arranged another marriage?" Glinda said. "To a beautiful young woman who could fulfill all the duties of an obedient wife, while still bringing the Vinkus closer to the Princess?"

"Who could do all that?" Fiyero asked.

"Me."

"_No_." Elphaba decided as soon as the word left Glinda's mouth. "I can't do that. You can barely read, you'd be going all that way, you know what Manek's family did to their last wife. You're as insignificant to them as his previous wife was, and they wouldn't hesitate killing you so I'd be back where I started, less a friend."

"Come on, Elphaba! What other choice do you have?" Glinda cried. "It's me or you! And I'll be fine. I've been giving myself to other men for years. At least now I know it'll always be the same man."

"I didn't even _get_ to the political side yet. You're not a virgin. You're not a noble, and as good as you'd be at being a perfect, flawless trophy wife, they won't accept it. The only way it could possibly work was if Manek chose you himself, and even then, his family might just go over his head and take away his voice in their scheming."

"So it's the family that's the problem," Fiyero said. "This might work if the relatives weren't so intent on tying themselves to you."

"But we can't get rid of the family; there's too many of them, and they're all important enough to be missed." Elphaba's frustration was beginning to translate into physical tension; her shoulders tensed and her hands tightened as she prepared to fight an invisible threat. He moved to get up, but Glinda was closer, and he stayed back.

"Elphaba, when you get like this, it's time to take a break." Glinda said. "It's late, and tomorrow is just around the corner. You can try again then, but for now, you've got to stop."

"They won't let me stop. They can't see me stop, or else this all comes crashing down."

"That door over there is closed. They can't see you in here. We've all noticed. Fiyero, Nessa and I all know how you can change between a princess and yourself. Well, from now on, you're not allowed to be a princess in here. You can only be Elphie in here."

"But-"

"No, Elphie."

"Glinda-"

"I said no." Glinda gave Elphaba one last hug. "Fiyero, make sure she goes to bed."

The request was comical, but nobody laughed. Given the choice, Elphaba would have worked through the night and into the morning. Goodbyes were quick, and Fiyero took Glinda's place beside Elphaba.

"Fae, you're shaking," Fiyero noticed, taking her hands. "What's wrong?"

"They can't see us here…" Elphaba whispered, then looked at Fiyero. "They can't see us."

"So?" Fiyero said. Elphaba grasped his hands and looked away.

"Well? Aren't you going to make sure I go to bed?" Fiyero, still puzzled, stood with her, but didn't move immediately. He couldn't see the stress she had been fighting minutes before, but she was still nervous. More nervous than he had ever seen her before.

"Wait, Fae. Glinda asked me to make sure you went to bed, as in got some _sleep_." Elphaba still didn't look at him, and didn't stop trembling, but her voice was even and ever so slightly sarcastic.

"Can't I do both, one and then the other? They can't see us." Fiyero sighed.

"Fae, now isn't right. You're rushing because you're scared. And I don't want you to be scared, but what you're doing right now is making me scared."

"Of what? What do you have to be afraid of?"

"All the experience you've had with men and love is from Glinda's prostitution and Nessa's relationship with Ax. And that's terrible. All the men you ever knew were selfish, abusive, and driven by sex. And I don't want to be like them. Because I _love_ you. I'm not paying you, and I don't know what I'd do if I saw you get hurt. I don't want to do it now."

Elphaba's trembling lessened as he spoke, until she was completely motionless. Fiyero wasn't even sure if her heart was still beating she was so still.

"Fiyero Tiggular, I think that's the first time you haven't immediately given me what I wanted." Her eyes smiled, though her face was too exhausted to match. "It reminds me why I love you." He took her in his arms, kissing her forehead. "You still have a promise to fulfill to Glinda, even if you won't do what… I thought I had wanted you to do."

"You're right," Fiyero agreed. "It's late. Time for bed." Elphaba looked at him. He rephrased. "Time for rest."

Glinda was a common figure in Fiyero's life, though the dynamic was changed. She was still generally happy, but a bit more transparent. Her dreams could come to her, and she was willing to work diligently and without complaint until they were hers. As reflected in her new clothing, Glinda regained much of her girlhood now that she no longer had to 'be a woman'. Ignorance faded into naïveté, drive turned into determination, and Fiyero watched as a respectable lady blossomed before his eyes. He could even see the reactions of others around her change. Men who had been stunned by the prostitute Glinda were now intrigued by her maidenly manners.

The change was most pronounced in Glinda, but Fiyero could see it in all of the ex-whores. Seemingly reborn, they began again on the ground levels, cooking, cleaning, laundry, and other feminine labors that others would have seen below their status. The entire Court knew the truth about why they were so eager for small chores, in their determination to shed their past. The past was dark and terrifying, and the hope they placed in the future almost earned pity. Indeed, the girls did pity each other, and it swirled among them like waves on a lake. No girl was immune, and no girl resisted providing comfort to a sister.

The fraternity of the Gale Force was a much different dynamic. Each worked individually for personal achievement, but they all recognized their part in a whole. Those who lagged were scorned, and Fiyero was quickly using the competitive nature of the Forcers to bring up standards. Avaric, as always, proved a faithful ally.

The protests began to die down, mostly as people noticed the mounting tension among the government. While the Gillkinese allying themselves with Elphaba was a great victory, it alienated the northernmost state from the rest of Oz, and their influence was diminished. Munchkinland seemed to be the next to go, but the Governor was wary of Elphaba to the point of aversion, and distrusted every decision she made. Mostly, Elphaba tried to build the Governor's trust by working with the Quadlings and showing her honesty there.

Spider, or as he should be called, River, was Fiyero's guide to Quadling politics.

"Quadlings is to move slow," he would say. "Is to ignore that no affect Quadling. Vinkus Country, Gillikin Country, Munchkin Country is no affect Quadling. City with Wizard is to be bad. City with Witch is not to affect Quadling. The old is slow."

Speaking with River was also like learning another language. Ancient, and nearly extinct, native dialects had blended with modern language to create sentences with convoluted structure and non-existent grammar. Still, few Quadlings abandoned the structure of their ancestral language, and fused it with day-to-day speaking. River had explained it quite simply.

"Quadling is to do what is to know. Do no else."

Slowly, the Quadling Country began to realize that having Elphaba as Queen did affect them, but did not endanger them. The distinction was hard to make, but with weeks of careful explaining, they started to lean toward joining the Confederation of Oz. The Quadling trust seemed to sway the Governor, and he approved the drafting of a constitution defining the rights of the Emerald City and the rights of the provinces.

The Vinkus was disturbingly cold and indifferent.

There was contact; brief, formal letters with lots of words that said nothing, and they were getting nowhere. The ultimatum was present in the air, and even thought not everyone knew the cause of the West's hesitation. Elphaba and Fiyero could only guess at how much of his visit to the Emerald City Prince Manek had told his family, and Elphaba couldn't identify written lies. The only way they would be able to tell was if Manek told them directly how much his family knew.

Elphaba was running out of ideas as well. Correspondence was failing, and she didn't have the power to go to the Vinkus herself. Fiyero offered to go, but that would imply military hostility. The nobles of the City were worthless when true politics came into play.

_Manek is still the key here,_ Fiyero thought. _As long as the Vinkan family has an eligible male, they will try to claim Elphaba. If that route is removed, they'd have no other options. The ultimatum would be forced on them._

The trick was getting to Manek. Contact with the Prince had been removed, as well. All letters were from the King or some other office in the monarchy. Manek had all but vanished. An idea struck him, one that he was sure would offend Elphaba, but he wasn't sure what else to do.

At this point, he just had to trust his instincts.

* * *

_Prince Manek of the Vinkus,_

_I send my respects from the Emerald City, and hope that all is well in the Vinkus, and that you remain in good health._

_I am a native to the Vinkus, and while I have ascended to great heights since my birth, I had always dreamed of seeing the Twin Castles, Noriko and Kiamo Ko. Stories I heard when I was young described magnificent fortresses that defend themselves from siege. Most people who passed through my village had never set foot inside, so my hopes of seeing the Castles began to fade, and I turned my attention toward the center of Oz._

_In the Emerald City, I had no money or food. I had traveled there knowing I would have to fight for my food, run for my life, and steal for a living. It was my first day there that I met our new Princess, Elphaba._

_She didn't call herself Elphaba. Nobody knew her name. When referring to her, they called her the Witch, identifiable by her green skin. She had organized a great Court of Thieves, an exclusive crime circle that regulated the thugs of the Emerald City. Her politics are blunt, and she is always willing to sacrifice what she must for the good of the whole._

_Not this time, however. In the slums, the closest thing a person knew to love was prostitution. Now that we are free of such a lifestyle, love can exist, and it does between Elphaba and me._

_I have one last question to ask you, Prince Manek. Are you willing to sacrifice your own happiness for the benefit of someone else? However dear they are to you, look at them through clear eyes and see what they want. Do they want you to make a good marriage? Do they want you to be in love? Do they want power, or do they care about you?_

_May your next action be based on your answer._

_Fiyero Tiggular, Captain of the Gale Force Guard_

Manek set down the letter. The Falcon that brought it was still waiting for reply, patiently cleaning its wings as Manek thought.

He had not loved his wife, but she was a good person. She had always been his friend, and though neither had consummated the marriage yet, they had an unspoken pact that doing so would not endanger the friendly terms between them. Manek tried to imagine being married to the Princess. She was too headstrong and untamed to accept a marriage other than one she picked herself. _I hope Captain Tiggular realizes how lucky he is._

"Have you read the letter, your Highness?" the Falcon asked. Manek nodded.

"Yes," he said, and began to write his reply.

It wasn't a letter. He wasn't writing to the Captain- he was writing straight to the Princess. He described the corruption among his family, all those who had murdered, all those who had ordered deaths, all those who had taken money for favors, and all those who had turned a blind eye to injustice.

"Take this to Princess Elphaba immediately," Manek asked the Falcon. He nodded and took the letter in one clawed foot, flying out the window.

Manek sat in silence for a moment, realizing exactly what he had just done. He was a traitor now, and knew that his family would either defy the laws and preserve his life, or seek him out and force him to partake in their schemes, which would then include clearing their names. The latter was more likely.

_I will be a pawn no longer,_ Manek thought, picking up his letter opener.

The blade then opened his heart.


	19. A New Arrival

Below in the courtyard, with the Vinkan colors flying, Fiyero directed the Gale Force in the ceremonial formations performed to honor fallen soldiers. The Forcers marched in unison, turning and thumping their pikes into the ground with mournful percussion. Elphaba read aloud as soldiers turned and clicked again.

"'My family stood for everything that Princess Elphaba hopes to eliminate from Oz. They were corrupt, manipulative, and disregarded human life. And now, I am dead, because they have disregarded mine.'" Elphaba paused for a moment, swallowing the lump in her throat. Many in the crowd were crying.

The Gale Force took a few more steps, and clicked.

"'My last and legally binding will is for the Vinkus to join the Confederation of Oz under Queen Elphaba, and that her descendants may continue to inherit her throne. I provide my blessings to her husband, and my congratulations on the wedding day.'" Elphaba folded the letter as it finished.

Another turn, a new formation, and click.

Fiyero could see the Falcon that had delivered his letter to Manek, along with Manek's response, sitting on a rooftop. He had his head bowed and

_I hadn't wanted Manek to die,_ Fiyero thought as he followed another turn. _Did he think I asked him to kill himself? Or did he think there wasn't another way to make the Vinkus join Oz?_

Another turn, two clicks this time, and turn again.

Thirty-five Forcers dead in the palace siege. Two Court members. The Wizard. Prince Manek's wife died, and Manek followed her. Forty deaths in all. Round, even forty.

_Forty._

Turn, turn, click. Pause, and march, stop, click.

"Let this be an end to death!" Elphaba cried, almost in answer to Fiyero's thoughts. "Let this be an end to betrayal! No one else shall die for the unification of Oz. Prince Manek's legacy will be that of honor and virtue. He will never be forgotten, for the day that Oz becomes a whole is the day we honor him as a hero. _Jo quiv catchev caht jo tumn_…"

A chorus of voices, Vinkan-born people, responded, "_D'rz siil jo Vinkun jovizn jehemb_." Fiyero's voice was included, and he closed his eyes to prevent crying.

_The sun sets in the West, and for the Vinkans, new days dawn._

From now on, there would be a unified Confederation of Oz. Elphaba would be Queen.

The Gale Force clicked their pikes one last time, and anything with wings took to the sky out of respect.

* * *

Years pass.

* * *

Dorothy came to slowly, with Toto pawing at her chest.

"What is it, Toto?" she asked, sitting up and clutching her basket to her. The floorboards had cracked and splintered, revealing green plants beneath, and the natural light was filtered through tall, healthy cornstalks. _The tornado must have picked up the house! _Dorothy realized. _Where am I now?_ She heard voices outside and ran to the door, Toto scurrying at her heels. Dorothy realized she had landed in the middle of a cornfield. _Whose field is this?_

"Hello?" Dorothy called. "Is someone there?"

"Who's that?" a gruff man's voice called back. "Who is it?"

"D-Dorothy! Over here, by the house!" Two men emerged from the corn, both of them shorter than Dorothy. The younger was only shorter by a few inches, with curly brown hair and the older with pale, graying blonde.

"Sweet Oz, my corn!" the older man cried. "That house has to come down, and we have to hope there's something left to salvage!"

"Cy, there's a girl here," the younger said, offering a hand. He looked in his mid-twenties, but his eyes were decades older. Beneath those mature brown eyes were dark circles, like he hadn't slept well in weeks. "The name's Boq. That's Cy, and it's his corn beneath your house." Cy was muttering darkly, ripping up sections of the corn to see how badly damaged it was.

"Stupid cyclone… Stupid house, landing on my corn… Why couldn't it land in Judai's field, why mine?"

"Just be thankful the house didn't hit a person," Boq told him, and turned back to Dorothy. "Is that _your_ house?" Dorothy nodded.

"Yes, it is… Where am I?"

"Eastern side of Munchkinland. East of the East, as the saying goes."

"Munchkinland?" Dorothy blinked. Toto growled at an oddly colored bug passing through.

"Not where you expected to land when you summoned that storm?" Boq suggested kindly.

"No, I didn't summon any storms, I've just never heard of Munchkinland before."

"Who hasn't heard of Munchkinland nowadays?" Cy spoke, but didn't look up. "Governor's only son finds himself a heathen Quadling girl. Frexspar's ready to declare war, but the Queen's holding him back."

"Well, back in Kansas, we have a governor… but no queen. We have a president instead." Boq and Cy exchanged a glance, almost as if deciding Dorothy was crazy.

"What's a Kansas?" Cy grunted, but turned back to his corn before Dorothy could respond. Dorothy looked to Boq instead; he seemed to be the more friendly of the pair.

"It's where I live. In the Great Plains, middle of the United States, above Oklahoma, and below Nebraska." Dorothy rattled off everything she knew about the location of Kansas. Boq merely shook his head.

"I haven't heard of any of those things. The plains in Munchkinland are all farmland, and to find any others you have to go West, to the Vinkus and the Thousand-Year-Grasslands." Dorothy's heart sank.

"So nobody has heard of Kansas?! Then how will I get home?!"

"You won't," Cy said. "Boq, go get the ax and saw. This thing needs to come down." Boq looked from Dorothy to Cy, back again, then beckoned for Dorothy to follow him into the corn. She trotted to catch up to him; despite his small stature, he moved skillfully through the field while Dorothy was unfamiliar with the geography of Cy's farm.

"Your best bet at getting home is to go to the Emerald City," Boq said. "With any luck, Zoera hasn't left yet, she's Cy's wife, and she can take you to the beginning of the Yellow Brick Road. You take that one road the whole time, then when you get to the City, find a Gale Forcer and tell him Ax told you to see the Witch. If he says no, find another one and ask again. Keep doing this until someone lets you into the Emerald Palace."

"What's a Gale Forcer?"

"They're the guards of the Emerald City. They're very distinctive, green uniforms, pikes, hard to miss."

"Well, my last name is Gale. Dorothy Gale." Boq smiled at her.

"That's a good omen. You're going to make it home, Dorothy."

They emerged from the corn a little while later behind a squat farmhouse with low doorways. Dorothy guessed she would have had to bow her head to get inside. A woman with light brown hair drawn up into pigtails above her ears was loading a cart with various packages and crates. A shaggy pony was hitched to the front, pawing to go.

"Zoera, don't leave just yet!" Boq called. The woman turned her head, and the pigtails flopped, making her look like a rabbit with droopy ears. "There's one more thing you need to bring to town." Zoera looked at Dorothy with green-brown eyes and bit her lip, furthering the image of an indecisive rabbit.

"Well, where'd this poor thing come from? Come here, darling, you can ride up front next to me. Right up there, that's a good girl." Dorothy noticed that she was taller than this woman, too. Zoera was barely above Dorothy's elbow. The Kansas girl obliged, sitting up beside the driver's seat as Toto hopped up to settle in her lap.

"You're going to be okay, Dorothy," Boq reassured her, patting her arm.

"If you say so," Dorothy said.

"You coming with me, Boq?" Zoera asked. "Wait a clock-tick, c'mere, Boq… lemmie see you…" Zoera grabbed the taller man's ear and pulled him down so she could examine his face better. "You look like a raccoon. And you're tense in your forehead and along your cheeks." Zoera let him back up and put her hands on her hips. Boq looked away.

"It's nothing I haven't dealt with before," Boq offered unhelpfully.

"I'm getting you medicine in town," Zoera decided. "Can't have you about to fall asleep in the field."

"No," Boq said. "Don't get me anything. That'll only make it worse."

Dorothy was about to ask for an explanation for their strange conversation when Zoera seemed to relent, and hopped up into the driver's seat.

"I'll see you this afternoon," Zoera said, and whipped the reins to make the pony go. Dorothy twisted around to watch Boq as the cart left the farmhouse.

"Thank you!" she called back. Boq merely waved. Dorothy turned back to Zoera, noticing that the woman was still troubled. "He's a sweetheart, isn't he?" Dorothy tried to make conversation.

"He's something." Zoera said, and the subject was closed.

Once they got off of the subject of Boq, Cy's wife proved to be a very talkative person, answering several of Dorothy's questions without even meaning to. On the other hand, her excessive chatter left no room for Dorothy to ask about issues her small talk raised. Regardless, Dorothy learned that Munchkinlanders were all short by nature, but powerful families had married into height many generations back, like the Governor's family. The governor was a devout 'Unionist', and his son proclaimed himself to be the same, but he's been spending 'a lot' of time with a girl from Quadling Country. Dorothy gleaned that Unionism was a little bit like Christianity, with one all-seeing, benevolent God, so she figured the Governor of Munchkinland couldn't be such a bad person. Zoera touched on the Witch and the Queen, but not as much as Dorothy would have liked. The Witch was obviously powerful, and so was the Queen, and she was curious as to what their relationship was in the ruling of Oz.

After about an hour, Zoera managed to talk about Boq, a City boy moved out East, much like a mother would talk about her son. Apparently Boq was only a hired farmhand. It was the joke of the neighborhood that Boq didn't have a girlfriend despite the fact he was of a prime age, a fact Zoera fretted about, but she knew Boq just didn't favor the idea of a relationship or marriage. She said Boq should have joined the Gale Force, so that the overbearing masculine influence would help him appreciate female company more. Dorothy just smiled and nodded, still curious about why Boq refused medicine for sleep.

They soon arrived at a busy square that Zoera claimed to be the beginning of the Yellow Brick Road. Colors swirled around them; flags, buildings, clothing, people. Zoera pointed out healthy pink-skinned Quadlings from squat Munchklanders, tall, tanned Vinkans from Quadlings, and a fourth group, blond and high-browed Gillkinese from the rest of them, describing how each group came from a section of Oz, like a rectangle divided into four triangles. At the center was the Emerald City, the jewel of Oz.

"Right then, darling, the Yellow Brick Road is over that ways, you got your basket and things, good girl, now, there's one crossroads you should know about, when you reach it you go right. All right now, darling, off you go! And say hello to the Witch for me, will you? There's a good girl!" And Zoera was gone. She disappeared so easily into the throngs of people that Dorothy thought she had vanished. Hesitantly, she turned in the direction Zoera had pointed, noticing a steady outflow and inflow of people. She took a few steps in that direction, and saw a road, gleaming gold against the green landscape, stretching to the horizon and beyond.

"Well, Toto," Dorothy took a deep breath. "Let's go."

Dorothy felt lost and afraid as she walked down the Yellow Brick Road. So many people surrounded her, people on foot, horses, in carts, and the animals! There were _animals_ of all sorts, exotic beasts and common farm stock, small mice and hulking dogs, walking upright and wearing people's clothing, talking to other animals and sometimes to other people. Nobody batted an eyelash at this, but Dorothy could only stare. Her staring only earned her funny looks in response, so she tried her best to avoid looking at the speaking animals.

As she walked, she heard gossip. A lot of it was about the Governor's son, Shell, and his fondness for a Quadling girl called Sun Spirit. There was talk about the Queen and the Witch approving of Shell's preference, about the dangerous trenches that were being worn on either side of the road, created by travelers that couldn't find space on the Road. Shutting down the road to make repairs would cripple travel for who knows how long. Making a new road would be expensive. But not to worry, something would be done soon.

Dorothy walked for a long way, not even stopping as she ate the little corn muffin Zoera had slipped into her basket. The people didn't easily allow for stopping; the Road was a river of activity, and stopping would mean being run over. Gradually, the scenery changed; open fields became a thick forest. As the sun started to set, Dorothy's feet were throbbing and Toto was riding in her basket, not making Dorothy's load any lighter. She noticed a clearing on the left side of the road, filled with tents and cooking fires sending tendrils of smoke up through the trees. People from the Road were spilling into the clearing, and Dorothy joined them, hoping to find a place to rest.

The clearing seemed to be a public campground, with people bustling about, talking, cooking, children playing, groups unpacking temporary tents or merely lying down with sleeping bags or bedrolls to sleep beneath the stars. Every ten yards or so around the outside of the clearing, men in green tunics were stationed, watching the people as they went about their business. Each man had a sword, a pike, and a strangely colored pistol, and Dorothy realized they were guards, positioned to prevent trouble in the campground. She found a space between two guards on the edge of the clearing, wondering if she should approach one of them with her request to meet the Witch, but decided against it. She was still far from the City; asking these men, even if they were Gale Forcers, would do no good. Upsetting Toto from the basket, she removed the blanket and folded it best she could to make a kind of mattress. She just hoped it wouldn't be cold at night; otherwise, she was done for.

"Hello, friend," a young man approached Dorothy, setting down a backpack beside her. He was bony and plain with brown mousy hair, but his eyes were intelligent and kind. "I noticed you're traveling light. Do you need a spare blanket? It might be cold tonight." Dorothy breathed a sigh of relief. _An angel, just when I needed one._

"Only if it's not too much trouble," Dorothy said. The man sat down, pulling a plain brown blanket out of his pack.

"Here you go," he said. "Which way are you headed?"

"To the Emerald City. I need to see the Witch." Dorothy responded. The man nodded curtly.

"Interesting. I'm headed off to volunteer at a general hospital in the Quadling Country. I'm a Unionist, you see. Brother Lapej." He offered a hand to Dorothy.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Dorothy." She took his handshake, remembering that Zoera had said the Governor was a Unionist.

"What calls you to see the Witch?" Lapej asked.

"I'm lost," Dorothy said, fudging details for simplicity's sake. "And I've been asking around, and nobody has ever heard of where I come from. I'm hoping the Witch might know a way to send me home." Lapej nodded again, this time more thoughtful. "Do you think that's a good idea? I've been walking all day, and I really hope that I'm headed for a way home."

"The Witch has the sinful magic of the Pleasure Faith in her blood," Lapej said. "But she uses those powers for the good of Oz… She is good, but you shouldn't depend on her for your salvation. Only the Unnamed God can save souls."

"I'm not really concerned about my soul right now," Dorothy said. "But I keep hearing about the… Unnamed God. We don't have him back in Kansas, and… I was wondering if you could tell me about him." Lapej's eyes lit up, and all traces of scorn about Dorothy's destination vanished.

"Oh, he's a kind and benevolent God," Lapej said. "I have heard his call to heal the sick and suffering in the corners of Quadling Country that haven't seen modern medicine. I could interpret a section in the Book of Prayers for you." Dorothy jumped at the chance to find out more about Oz.

"Is there anything about the talking animals? I'm curious about them." Lapej smiled kindly, pulling out a thick book from his backpack and flipping through the light pages.

"Of course. There was a great flood at the beginning of time, listen…"

Lapej read a section, describing how the tears of the Unnamed God fell to Oz and caused an enormous flood to sweep through the lands. The humans knew how to build rafts and get to higher ground, though many animals did not. There was a group of animals who managed to build a raft and escape the flood. In return, they were granted sentience, and became known as the Animals, with a stress on the 'a'. Dorothy listened, fascinated by the story of the Animals. The flood seemed similar to Noah's Ark, but in that story Noah had rescued animals. She wondered if there would have been Animals in her world if they had built an Ark all on their own.

"Thank you," Dorothy said. "It's much clearer to me now."

"Now, this passage means the Unnamed God will occasionally give us tests," Lapej said, zeal fueling his heart. "But, if we are pure of heart and overcome the challenges he presents to us, we are rewarded with intelligence, wisdom, and enlightenment." Dorothy nodded, unsure if _her_ God would consider it a sin to lead a poor man on like that. But, it seemed to give him joy to preach to her, and it answered several of her questions about Oz.

"It's getting to dark to continue reading," Lapej said sadly, unrolling a sleeping bag. "I'll lead you in evening prayers, and then we can rest until morning." Dorothy sat up on her knees, folding her hands and tuning out the holy man as she ran through the Lord's Prayer in her head, making sure to stress the 'forgive _us_ our sins as we _forgive those who sin against us_'. Prayer completed, though the two prayed to different gods, they settled down and bid each other good night.

It took Dorothy a long time to settle down; she mostly gazed up at the stars, trying to find familiar constellations and failing. A few stars kind of formed the same general shapes, but they were still so strange to her. The moon was the same, though. There was no changing the moon. She ended up using Lapej's blanket as padding and her own blanket to cover her against the chilly night air. Toto's warmth tucked in beside her own made her feel safer, and certainly helped keep the cold at bay.

She woke at the break of day, and found that Lapej was already packing with a tin bowl of what looked like oatmeal and a piece of jerky sitting before him.

"Good morning, friend," he said. "I've already eaten, and I knew you and the dog would be hungry. Take it, and thank the Unnamed God for bounty." Dorothy nodded respectfully, and took the oatmeal as Toto chewed on the jerky. Lapej took his blanket back, folding it neatly and packing it in his bag, and packing the oatmeal bowl with it when Dorothy was finished.

"Well, I'm off," he said. "I hope you find your way home, Dorothy." Dorothy smiled at him.

"And I hope you like it in Quadling Country," Dorothy said. Brother Lapej waved, and set off through the maze of tents for the Yellow Brick Road. Dorothy soon followed suit, folding up her blanket and putting her shoes on again. The old black shoes left blisters on her feet from walking before, but she certainly couldn't go barefoot, so she forced the shoes on and joined the stream of travelers to the Yellow Brick Road.

Around noon, she saw her first glimpse of the Emerald City. Boq hadn't warned her that it would really _be_ emerald, as its name suggested, but the tall spires and elegant architecture of the bright green city was breathtaking against the yellow of the Road and the blue of the sky. She almost paused in the middle of the Road to behold it. Never before had she seen such tall buildings, such wonders all in one place, such a jewel of a city.

"We're almost there, Toto!" she cried excitedly. "Let's go!"


	20. The Witch, The Queen

The gates of the Emerald City were grand and full of promise for Dorothy. Now, things would finally pay off. She would see the Witch and then get to go home, and she could tell her Auntie Em and all the farmhands about the strange things she had seen and heard in the Land of Oz. To either side of the gates, a man in a green jacket with a pike stood, and Dorothy knew those had to be Gale Forcers. She moved along with the other travelers, however, so as not to disturb the flow by seeking out the first guards she found. If Boq was right, they were all over the City.

Dorothy walked a few blocks inside the City, mesmerized by the splendor around her, until she noticed another Gale Forcer standing at the corner. She approached him cautiously, aware at how much taller than her he was, and how sharp his pike was. The guards were definitely not around for show.

"Excuse me, sir," she did an awkward little curtsy. "My name is Dorothy, and I've lost my way, and I was told by Ax that the Witch could help me." The man looked at her boredly, like she was a waste of his time.

"If you're lost, you find a map," he said. "You don't need to bother the Witch for that."

"But I come from a place called Kansas. I don't even think it's in Oz, and I need-"

"Please move along, Miss," the man said. "If you need to get home, you find your mother, not the Witch. There's a safe-house at the corner if you need to look for a lost parent, but the Witch has better things to do." Dorothy blinked back tears, but remembered what Boq had said to do if the first Gale Forcer turned her down. _Find another._

She moved along the streets aimlessly, finding herself in splendid squares full of statues, fountains, and pleasant-looking shops, and also in dingier areas, places that made her feel like she was half her age and dreadfully exposed. Still, no matter where she went, there were Gale Forcers, and she asked every one she came across, but all of them turned her down. She was starting to get desperate when she asked one guard who gave her a very different reply:

"Ax? _Ax_ told you to get the Witch? Who does he think he is? Didn't he tell you, the Witch would have _killed_ him if her sister hadn't said no! Ripped him limb from limb! Witch won't listen to a word he says! If that Munchkin, wherever he is, thinks he still has power in the City, he's mistaken. Move along, girl."

Dorothy stopped asking after that. She found an empty stoop to sit on, thinking over what the final Forcer's message meant. Apparently Boq had another name at one point: Ax, and he had had some sort of power when he was called Ax. But the Witch either didn't recognize his power or decided he was an underling to her, and the Forcers refused to let anyone see her if they were sent by him. But if he held power in the City, why was Boq working as a farm-hand in Munchkinland? Too many questions, and nobody wanted to answer them for her…

"You lost, girl?" Dorothy jumped. A middle-aged, unhealthy-looking man with a stubbly chin and baggy eyes was standing before her. She blinked at him.

"Yes…" she said. "I wanted to see the Witch, so she could send me home, but nobody will let me see her…" The man nodded sympathetically.

"Well, it just so happens you're in luck," he said. "I'm a wizard." Dorothy's eyes widened.

"You are?"

"Yes I am."

"Sorry, I didn't think you might be a wizard… You don't look very wizardly."

"I… spend so much time doing magic I don't really have time. Y'know, to make myself look wizardly," the man explained. "If you come with me, I might be able to do something about 

your situation." Dorothy jumped off the stoop gratefully; Oz certainly agreed with her, always giving her what she needed to get one step closer to going home. The wizard led her away from the square, eventually turning into an alleyway.

"A shortcut," he explained. Dorothy placed Toto in her basket and followed him, hurrying to get closer. The shortcut obviously went through a poor part of town; she couldn't see any Gale Forcers.

Suddenly, the wizard turned around and kicked her in the stomach, ripping the basket with Toto out of her arms. He tied the basket shut as Dorothy gripped her stomach, biting back tears and bile.

"What… what are you-"

"You want me to help you? You better _pay_ me first…" The man tossed the basket aside carelessly, with Toto barking and scrambling at the wicker sides. Dorothy's attacker pulled out a knife and used it to force Dorothy against the wall and started lifting her skirt. Dorothy whimpered in fear.

"You're no wizard," she whispered, terrified. "You lied…"

"Shut up, little bitch," the man growled. "And wise up, and don't walk around on your own."

"Let her go." Dorothy and the man turned to look at the newcomer. She was a slight woman, not short, not tall, and waif-like, with long brown hair and glittering brown eyes. In her hand, she held a knife of her own; a throwing knife. She could easily dispatch of the man from the other side of the alley. Hurriedly, the man dropped Dorothy and ran, turning the first corner and disappearing into the slums of the City. Dorothy fell to her knees, breathing hard and fast.

"Are you all right?" Dorothy's savior approached her slowly, offering a hand to help her get up.

"Yes," she breathed, not wanting to think of what might have happened if this woman hadn't scared her attacker away. "Oh, Toto… where's Toto?" Dorothy crawled to the basket, undoing the top and letting her dog limp out. One of his legs was hurt, but it didn't look serious, and Dorothy picked him up in her arms, nuzzling him.

"What were you doing walking out alone?" the woman said. "There are still those who avoid the watchful Gale Force, and a few who get away with it." Dorothy looked at the woman, offering her story one last time.

"I come from Kansas. It's in another world. My house was picked up by a tornado and I found myself here. A farm-hand called Boq told me to come to the City and see the Witch, but nobody has been able to help me." The woman smiled.

"Did he really?" she asked playfully, and Dorothy nodded, not knowing what else to do. "I'll tell you what; I'll get you an audience with the Witch, tonight, if you tell me what Boq is up to now." Dorothy, all too eager to make the bargain, started on her story.

"He lives in Munchkinland, East of the East, as a hired farmhand to a couple, Cy and Zoera. He's been with them for… about five years, and they've never had a more hardworking and dedicated helper. The neighborhood picks on him for not having a girlfriend, but Zoera knows he's okay, because he always respects women and shows them kindness." The woman took in this information, shaking her head. "He doesn't sleep well, either. And he won't let Cy and Zoera buy him medicine so he can sleep. He'd rather risk falling asleep while working."

"Ax is serving his sentence," the woman said, standing up and heading toward the street.

"Wait, I never called him Ax!" Dorothy cried, hurrying to follow her savior. "How do you know that-"

"-he used to have another name?" the woman finished her sentence. "Because I was alive then. Boq was one of the Revolutionaries."

"Revolutionaries?" Dorothy repeated. "Who are they?"

"A group of criminals who all united under the Witch to take down our previous ruler, the great and terrible Wizard of Oz. He was abusive and tyrannical, but nobody knew he was the one responsible for all the misery in Oz. But that's all over now, and the Revolutionaries went their separate ways. Most went into the Gale Force. Others went home, like Ax did." They emerged in a busy street, and the woman took Dorothy's hand. Dorothy flinched a little, mostly because the woman was a stranger, but the gesture was comforting to her. She had a protector, someone who knew where she was, where she was going, and how to get there, which was more comforting than anything for someone who was lost.

"I've never lived through a revolution before," Dorothy said. "I mean, they taught us about the American Revolution, when the colonists sent the British back to England, but that's just about it, and it was years and years before I was born." The woman merely nodded, giving Dorothy the impression she was being tuned out because her rescuer had no idea what she was talking about.

"My name is Dorothy," the farm girl said, hoping to get some sort of response.

"Nessarose," the woman said. "Most people just call me Nessa."

"Nessa," Dorothy repeated to memorize it. "Thank you so much for saving me back there. I was having trouble finding the Witch, and he said that he was a wizard and he could help me." Nessa shook her head.

"Preying on the innocent," she said. "Despicable. At least Fabala had imposed some sort of control when she had the Court."

"Who's Fabala?"

"The Witch. Her real name is Elphaba, but I call her Fabala. I'm her sister." Dorothy's eyes widened. She couldn't believe her luck.

"Your _sister_ is the Witch?" Dorothy repeated in disbelief.

"Yes, the one and only. Almost everyone has a pet name for her, everyone close to her. She'd probably prefer you called her just Elphaba. It bothers her when people trip over her titles, and also when someone uses someone else's nickname." Dorothy followed her obediently, anchored to the one person she had met who was able to stay with her and guide her. Nessa led Dorothy to the great gated palace that Dorothy had skirted around the outside of; the guards let her in without trouble.

"Why is the Witch in the palace?" Dorothy asked the burning question as Nessa skillfully lead her through the numerous green-marble hallways.

"Because she's the Queen." Dorothy mentally scolded herself. It had been painfully obvious, but she had missed it because there were no witches or queens back home. That was why their titles were used interchangeably.

More stairs, more turns, Dorothy was lost–again–but Nessa wasn't. They arrived at the end of a hallway, and Nessa paused before opening the door.

"I have to warn you," she said softly. "She will help you, she'll want to help you, but I still have to warn you. There is no telling what mood she's going to be in. We'll all try to help, but she hasn't always been feeling her best." Dorothy felt the color leave her face.

"W-what should I do?" she stammered. Nessa bit her lower lip.

"Hope for the love of Oz your dog stays under control," Nessa said. "Don't stare, and… don't cry." _Don't _cry_? Lord help me…_ Before Dorothy could ask anything else, Nessa knocked on the door.

"Fabala?" Nessa called.

"Come in!" a voice said back. Nessa gave Dorothy a thumbs-up, and opened the door. She stepped cautiously across the threshold, searching for some form of comfort.

The room was large, roughly the size of her living room and kitchen averaged together, and it was arranged like a sitting room and an office put together. Two velvet couches and an armchair formed a loose semicircle around a coffee table, facing a large and currently empty fireplace. Several bookshelves lined the walls, most devoted to their true purpose, but one held some rather strange items; the lower shelves held rags and two a pair of man's boots with heavy laces; middle shelves had food, mostly apples and a breadbox. Above those were brown glass bottles of what Dorothy could only assume was beer or some other drink. Maybe it wasn't even alcoholic; so far, Oz had been full of surprises like that.

There was one desk, solid and practical, with a woman sitting at it. She sat up and swept her long, black hair over her shoulders and looked up at Nessa. Dorothy's jaw almost dropped at the sight of her; a woman with green skin.

_Don't stare._

Nessa's advice made so much more sense now, but why couldn't she have _warned _Dorothy about green skin? Maybe she assumed Dorothy was used to such a thing. To keep herself from staring, Dorothy looked at Elphaba's eyes. Sparkling, normal hazel eyes.

"Nessie," the woman said, bracing herself to stand.

"Don't get up, Fabala," Nessa cautioned, crossing the room to give her sister a hug. Dorothy followed awkwardly, and realized 'Fabala' was noticeably pregnant, with Dorothy's best guess being five months in. "I stumbled across something you might find interesting." Nessa broke the embrace and turned to Dorothy. "I'd like you to meet my sister, Elphaba. Fabala, this is Dorothy of Kansas."

The hazel eyes sharpened, and Dorothy was reminded of the bristling fur on a dog.

"How did you get here?" the question was low, accusatory, wary.

_There is no telling what mood she's going to be in. _The Witch, Queen Elphaba, was a bipolar pregnant mess and had to deal with sending Dorothy home. And the worst part was, Elphaba was the only one who could do it.

"My house was picked up by a tornado, and dropped in a cornfield in Munchkinland." Dorothy explained as clearly as possible.

"Did the storm feel magical or out-of-sorts to you?"

"No. Many people where I come from don't believe in magic. Or, the adults don't."

"How old are you?"

"Twelve." Elphaba turned away, running over some sort of mental list. Finding no conclusion, she sighed and turned back to Dorothy and Nessa.

"So what is it she needs?" Elphaba asked.

"Passage home." Nessa said.

"The Wizard figured out how to do that, but that needs a hot air balloon, and our spare just so happens to be on walkabout. I could come up with a spell, but I have to find a way to make sure it sends her to Kansas as opposed to somewhere else in Oz." Eyes wide, Dorothy looked to Nessa for reassurance. Nessa merely smiled and nodded encouragingly.

"Well, I know my address, for letters," Dorothy offered. Elphaba shook her head.

"It won't help. I don't know how to get a letter to Kansas, knowing your address won't help." Nessa took Dorothy's hand again, mostly for reassurance. _Don't give up._

Elphaba stood up, much to Nessa's disapproval, and retrieved a heavy book from the other side of the room. Dorothy knew she had never seen anything as old as that ancient tome. Cracked leather covered crumbling pages with faded ink, and Elphaba handled it very carefully, as if it might blow away in a faint breeze.

"Certainly, one way is flight," Elphaba said. "But if we use magic to achieve that, then we'll have a magical object on the other side, and Dorothy will have to navigate by herself. It would be the easiest, but not the best option…"

The door opened, and all three whipped around to look at the new arrival.

"Elphie, you put that horrendible book down right now!" a high-pitched voice demanded. The voice was accompanied by a petite blonde woman who wouldn't have looked out of place back in Kansas. She wore common working clothes; a blouse, skirt, and apron, leaving Dorothy to wonder how a servant could speak to the Queen in such a manner. A taller man with straw-blond hair followed the servant, calmly ignoring her behavior and taking off his boots next to the first pair. Dorothy noticed, off-handedly, the first pair couldn't possibly have been his; the feet were too small.

"Glinda, this is important!" Elphaba protested, closing the book for protection.

The two began to talk over each other, and Dorothy couldn't make out what either was saying, only a disjointed string of words.

"Don't you think _wait to do this _you being pregnant doesn't _won't, I'm a working mother_ a child _from Kansas, Glinda! _if she's from the moon _this is an emergency _to take it easy _don't you tell me to take it easy _you can't work _easy for the last five _this room!"

The two seemed to realize they were fighting, and stopped abruptly.

"I do mean what I say about not working, Elphie," the blonde woman, Glinda, said in a much calmer tone. Elphaba shook her head.

"Glinda, this is serious. It's is the same situation as the Wizard was, with a non-Ozian in Oz."

Dorothy was once again struck by how everyone seemed to regard Kansas as another world, like the far off kingdom from fairy tales where good and evil battled, and evil sometimes won. They asked the farm girl to explain her story again, and she was only interrupted twice. The first time was when she mentioned Boq. Glinda's expression turned more serious, the man looked away, and Elphaba all but growled at the mention of his name.

"Fabala, it's fine," Nessa said softly. "He's taking his punishment the way he was supposed to."

"What is he being punished for?" Dorothy asked, a question that had been burning her since she last encountered a Gale Forcer.

"Corruption, adultery, and deceit," Elphaba spat the words like as if she could run them through Boq's heart like knives.

"_Fabala,_ enough," Nessa said. "I can tell you more later, but Boq hasn't walked free. You know that."

Nessa then urged Dorothy to continue with her story. The tale paused again when she mentioned the man that led her into an alley. The man's fists clenched, and he started pulling papers out of Elphaba's desk.

"Not you too, Fiyero," Glinda chided. "If you don't follow the rule, why will Elphie?"

"There's supposed to be an air-tight net," the man, Fiyero, said. "And that man slipped through. There needs to be a reorganization of-"

"Glinda's right, Yero," Elphaba said. She took Fiyero's hand and put away what he had retrieved. Elphaba saw a glint of gold on Elphaba's left hand. _Her husband is in charge of the Gale Forcers, _Dorothy thought. The instant she would discover something about Oz, it would click into place as if she should have known from the beginning. If there was a governor in Munchkinland, then it probably meant not all the provinces were monarchies. When she got married, she had to pick from people who were important rather than royal.

Nessa entered Dorothy's story soon after, and that led her full circle, back to where she was sitting, explaining this story to the Queen of Oz. Elphaba was thoughtful.

"It will take me a while, especially since Glinda won't let me work," Elphaba began. "But it can be done. I will find a way to send you home, and I'll make sure you can't accidentally wind up here again."

"Unless you want to visit." Glinda added.

"No, I don't think a casual visit is plausible, Glinda. We're talking about two different worlds, worlds that the general public aren't aware that the other exists."

"Whatever," Glinda shrugged. "I'll get Dorothy set up in a room. Maybe answer a few questions."

"Oh, yes, please," Dorothy said, grateful for hospitality and knowledge.

The instant the door shut behind Dorothy and Glinda, Elphaba became withdrawn and thoughtful. Both her sister and her husband, adept at reading her moods, turned to her.

"Fae?" Fiyero was first. "Is something troubling you?" Elphaba paused a moment, trying to come up with the right words.

"Did she seem… infantlike, to you? Like you just had to help her?" Elphaba asked.

"She was about to get raped, what else was I supposed to do?" Nessa said, almost to nobody in particular.

"Yes, but you didn't have to bring her to me immediately. You know that I don't usually work in this room, and you're almost as bad as Glinda for enforcing it. You could have set her up in a room and brought her to me the next morning. But I think I see a pattern beginning here."

"A pattern?" Fiyero said.

"Yes… twenty-five years ago, the Wizard arrived in Oz, completely by chance. He was lost, confused, and probably afraid, but fate gave him the crown and security from the dangers in Oz. The only person who managed to defeat him was someone who was half him. And now, twenty-five years after he arrived, another person managed to… slip through."

"So every twenty years or so, we'll have another Slipper from Kansas to deal with?" Fiyero asked. "What if it's another person like the Wizard, and they'd rather he become the king?"

"Well… This also brings into light that the reason I have magic is because I'm a hybrid, of Kansas and Oz." Elphaba said, and placed one hand on her swollen stomach. Both Fiyero and Nessa's eyes widened.

"The bloodline," Nessa said. "You need to strengthen the bloodline."

"How do you know it will work? We don't know if it's a son or daughter, and we don't know what sex the next Slipper will be." Elphaba took a deep breath.

"I'd have to leave that to fate," she admitted.

There was two seconds of silence, as the significance of what Elphaba said settled in. She never trusted anything to fate, always making her own decisions, no matter what. She continued explaining. "But if everything goes as we want, the baby is the opposite sex of the Slipper, and the ages are close enough, I think they will fall in love."

"How can you know that?" Nessa asked. Love was touchier with her.

"You saw Dorothy's influence. Ax didn't _have_ to try and dredge up his Court past. The missionary didn't have to share food with _her_. It's a pattern, like magnets. Oz and Kansas attract, but when they touch, the reaction is explosive. If we can harness that explosion, then it will ensure generations of quick-thinking, active rulers from now until the end of time."

"So long as you know what you're doing, Fabala," Nessa said. She kissed her sister on the forehead, and left for her own bedroom.

"Since when were you one to leave your fate to… well, fate?" Fiyero asked after Nessa left. He picked Elphaba up, a practice she generally disapproved of, but this time she didn't argue as she allowed him to carry her to their bedroom.

"Trust me, I'm not happy about it," she told him. "I'm going to control everything I can in this. Where they fall, what they see, how to get them home if they're not happy, or if they're not-" She stopped suddenly, her face frozen.

"Fae? What is it?" Fiyero laid her down on the bed, taking her hand.

"I'm fine," Elphaba said in wonder. "But… the baby just kicked. The baby just kicked for the first time." Fiyero placed a hand on her stomach, and sure enough, a few seconds later the baby kicked again.

"You've got it excited," Fiyero said. "All your talk about controlling fate has got him ready to go."

"You just called it a 'him'."

"Do you think it's a girl?"

"No, I'm just wondering why you called it 'him'."

"'It' seems dehumanizing. And it's the first thing that came to mind. I could have just as easily said her."

"I'll want a boy. So he can be just like you."

"You think you could put up with two of me? Then I'll pick a girl. So she'll be just like you."

"Two 'me's and we'll burn down the City."

"How about a girl that's just like me?"

"Compromise, thy name is idiot."

"What?"

The banter ended on a playful note. Fiyero felt the baby kick again beneath his hand.

"Home," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"That's what we could use to anchor the spell. To send Dorothy home. Because she wants to go back to where she feels like this; surrounded by love and happiness. Home. And then she'll always return to Kansas, as her home, rather than switching back and forth between Oz. And so long as she knows that her family loves her, she'll always have that place, like a back-to-start."

Elphaba thought it over.

"That wouldn't be a bad idea," Elphaba reached for a necklace at her bedside table. It was a chain, silver and gold links alternating, with little charms spaced around the edge. Some seemed to gleam a little brighter than others- a sword, a small goblet, a key, and a hand mirror stood out in particular. Selecting a small, gold heart, Elphaba wrapped her hand around it and closed her eyes. After a second, her hand went limp, and she fainted from the exertion of forcing her magic.

Fiyero replaced the charm necklace on the bedside table and helped tuck Elphaba into bed. Taking after the diamonds Fiyero had given her so many years ago, they had decided to give their baby a necklace with enchanted charms that would protect him from just about anything. Elphaba had obviously created a 'return home' charm.

"I told you so, Fae," Fiyero whispered to her, climbing in beside her and closing his eyes. "Everything's all right now."


	21. Author's Farewell

**A/N: Twenty chapters, and now it's the end. It's bittersweet, but mostly bitter.**

**Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you ALL. I'm thanking anyone who ever read something I wrote, anyone who left a review, anyone who told me it was awesome, and anyone who told me it wasn't. I'm thanking everyone who guessed what I was going to, anyone who guessed and failed, and anyone who doesn't want to see me leave. The idea of really _leaving_ you all, the people, is much more difficult than just declaring my account retired.**

**For all that I will miss everyone, I do have to leave. And I've realized something about writing fanfiction. I found FFdotNet because I was looking for Wicked fansites, and one of my hits was the Fanfiction Archive. I came, and I read some, and I would leave anonymous reviews. Eventually, I started writing fanfiction of my own, and I posted it. And the amazing thing is, nobody made any of us start writing fanfiction. This is all of our own free will.**

**That's the mark of a true author. When nobody forces you to write, and you do anyway, simply because you love it, you are an author. When you just have to write, and there's no other reason but your own instincts, you are an author. Writing every day, even if you're writing about something you don't own, helps you get better. Always view fanfiction as a way to get better. This is coming from a fangirl who is just about to grow up and become a fan-woman.**

**I want the best for all of you in your writing careers. Fly high, and defy gravity. -LostOzian**


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